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L162 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


BY 


BERTHA  M.  CLAY 


CHICAGO 

DONOHUE,  HENNEBERRY  &  CO. 

407-429  DEARBORN  STREET 


DONOHUE  &  htNNEBERRY 
printers  and  binders 
Chicago 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


CHAPTER  I 

'my  title  is  'the  spendthrift,  the  ruined  earl.,w 

The  time  was  noon  of  a  brilliant  June  day,  the  place 
a  gloomy  office  in  a  London  court  which  belonged  to 
Arley  Ransome — a  square  room  that  contained  tables 
covered  with  deeds  and  papers,  iron  safes  securely 
fastened,  shelves  filled  with  works  on  the  British  law 
and  constitution,  bill-files  that  could  literally  hold  no 
more,  maps  of ''different  estates  lying  carelessly  open, 
large  inkstands,  pens,  sheets  of  blotting-paper.  There 
was  a  mingled  odor  of  parchment  and  sealing-wax. 
The  sun,  bright  as  it  was,  could  not  manage  to  shine 
into  the  room — the  grim,  gloomy  windows  absolutely 
refused  to  admit  his  rays;  yet,  dark  and  gloomy  as 
the  place  appeared,  there  was  a  prosperous  look  about 
it — an  atmosphere  of  business  seemed  to  pervade  it. 

Pen  in  hand,  his  keen,  shrewd  face  full  of  deep 
thought,  the  owner  and  occupier,  Arley  Ransome,  sat 
at  the  square  table,  a  large  parchment  deed  spread 
open  before  him.  He  was  oblivious  of  everything 
except  the  sheet  at  which  he  was  looking.  Drowsy 
flies  hummed  and  buzzed  in  the  window-panes,  and  he 
never  heard  them;  they  committed  suicide  in  the  great 

577858 


6 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


inkstands,  and  he  never  saw  them.  To  the  shining 
sun  and  the  bright  summer  morning  he  was  equally 
indifferent.  He  read  on  and  on,  the  lines  of  his  face 
relaxing,  until  a  cold,  satirical  smile  curled  his  lips. 
He  started  as  though  half-alarmed,  when  his  clerk, 
opening  the  door  of  the  room,  suddenly  announced: 
"The  Earl  of  Caraven,  sir." 

44 1  am  ready  to  see  him,"  was  the  reply.  But, 
before  the  earl  entered,  the  lawyer  quickly  folded  up 
and  put  away  the  deed  that  had  engrossed  his  atten- 
tion. 

"Am  I  too  soon?  "  asked  a  mellow,  indolent  voice. 
Arley    Ransome  looked  up  with  a  smile  at  the 
speaker. 

44No.  my  lord;  I  was  expecting  you." 

l4It  is  something  after  the  fashion  in  which  a  spider 
expects  a  fly,"  said  the  young  nobleman.  "There  is 
one  thing  to  be  said:  I  am  a  perfectly  resigned  fly. 
I  know  that  evil  hours  await  me,  and  I  am  prepared 
for  them." 

The  clerk  placed  a  chair,  and  at  a  signal  from  his 
master,  quitted  the  room,  but  the  Earl  of  Caraven 
declined  the  proffered  seat.  He  stood  by  the  mantel- 
piece, leaning  with  careless  grace  upon  it. 

"It  is  not  the  thing  to  smoke  in  a  lawyer's  office," 
he  said,  "but  I  must  ask  permission  to  do  so.  I  shall 
derive  some  kind  of  comfort  from  it." 

Arley  Ransome  bowed,  and  the  Earl  of  Caraven 
applied  himself  to  the  task  of  selecting  and  lighting 
a  cigar. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "that  I  should  furnish  an 
excellent  moral  as  a  lesson  for  all  bad  boys-" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


7 


*#You  would  form  an  excellent  warning,  my  lord," 
was  the  grave  reply. 

"It  is  the  same  thing.  And  now  I  am  prepared  for 
the  worst.    What  is  it?" 

Arley  Ransome  looked  at  the  speaker.  There  was 
something  of  admiration,  of  pity,  and  of  contempt  in 
the  long,  lingering  glance  of  those  shrewd  eyes;  yet 
he  could  not  have  looked  at  a  comelier  face  or  figure 
than  those  of  the  young  earl. 

Handsome  with  a  worn,  haggard  kind  of  beauty 
that  told  its  own  story — that  told  of  days  and  nights 
spent  in  wild  dissipation,  told  of  prodigal  habits,  of 
an  utter  absence  of  self-control,  told  of  an  idle,  useless, 
purposeless  life,  of  a  nature  spoiled  and  vitiated — • 
the  face  might  have  been  a  noble  one  but  for  the  lines 
that  self-indulgence  had  marked  there.  The  head  was 
well-shaped  and  proudly  set;  it  was  covered  with 
clusters  of  fair  hair,  waving  in  lines  of  perfect  beauty 
from  a  broad,  white  brow.  The  face  itself  was  clearly 
cut,  with  handsome  features,  dark  blue  eyes,  clear, 
straight  brows;  the  lips  were  well  shaped,  and  half 
hidden  by  a  fair,  drooping  mustache.  The  figure  was 
tall,  well  knit,  finely  formed,  with  a  certain  careless, 
easy  grace.  The  Earl  of  Caraven,  as  he  stood  await- 
ing his  sentence,  was  a  handsome  and  comely  young 
Englishman  in  the  springtide  of  life,  retaining  much 
of  his  natural  strength  and  vigor,  although  he  had 
done  his  best  to  destroy  them. 

There  was  no  trembling,  no  hesitation  in  his  manner; 
his  easy  grace  and  nonchalance  did  not  desert  him  even 
while  he  listened  to  words  that  must  have  been  terri- 
ble to  him. 


8 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Now,  Mr.  Ransome,"  he  said,  at  last,  with  haughty 
impatience,  "there  is  no  need,  figuratively  speaking, 
to  keep  the  ax  suspended  over  my  head;  tell  me  the 
worst  at  once." 

"The  worst,  my  lord,  is  utter,  irretrievable  ruin — 
ruin  so  complete  and  so  entire  that  I  do  not  see  a 
chance  of  saving  even  one  shilling  from  the  wreck." 

The  earl  listened  quite  calmly;  his  lips,  half-hidden 
by  the  fair  mustache,  grew  a  trifle  paler — but  there 
was  no  flinching  in  the  handsome,  haggard  face. 

"Utter  ruin,"  he  repeated.  "Well,  as  they  say  in 
bonnie  Scotland,  'you  cannot  both  eat  your  cake  an(? 
have  it.'" 

"True,  my  lord,"  assented  the  lawyer. 

"I  have  eaten  my  cake,"  continued  the  younger  man 
— "and  I  do  not  deny  that  the  taste  of  it  is  bitter 
enough  in  my  mouth — it  has  turned  to  ashes,  like  Dead 
Sea  fruit.    Still,  it  is  eaten,  and  there  is  an  end  of  it." 

"It  is  eaten  indeed,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"You  see  no  loophole — you  can  suggest  nothing?" 
said  the  earl. 

"Every  loophole  is  closed,  my  lord,"  was  the  brief 
reply. 

"And  you  are  quite  sure,  Ransome,  that  there  is 
nothing  left  on  which  I  can  borrow  money— nothing 
more  that  I  can  mortgage?" 

"I  believe  honestly  that  the  only  object  belonging 
to  the  Ravensmere  estate  which  remains  unmortaged 
my  lord,  is  yourself,"  replied  Arley  Ransome. 

"It  is  equally  sure  that  no  one  will  lend  money  on 
me,"  said  Lord  Caraven,  laughingly.    "Give  me — not 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


9 


the  details,  but  a  resume;  give  me  some  faint  Idea  of 
how  I  stand." 

Arley  Ransome,  lawyer  and  money-lender,  the  calm, 
inscrutable  man  of  business,  looked  at  the  young 
earl — perhaps  he  wondered  at  his  perfect  calmness; 
then  he  glanced  at  a  sheet  of  paper  lying  on  the  desk. 

"It  will  not  be  pleasant  to  hear,  Lord  Caraven,"  he 
said,  slowly;  "but  you  ask  for  it.  To  begin.  At  the 
age  of  twenty-one  you  succeeded  ta  the  Ravensmere 
estates  and  title;  the  estates  were  clear  of  all  debts  and 
incumbrances;  the  rent-roll  was  thirty  thousand  per 
annum;  there  was  beside  a  sum  of  fifty  thousand 
pounds  in  the  funds,  the  savings  of  the  late  earl — that 
is  correct,  I  believe?" 

''Quite  so,"  was  the  curt  reply. 

'You  are  now  twenty-eight  years  of  age,  my  lord, 
and  in  seven  years  you  have  run  through  a  fortune." 

"Keep  to  facts;  no  comments — plain  facts,"  said  the 
earl. 

"The  'plain  facts'  are  these,"  continued  the  lawyer 
— "the  fifty  thousand  went,  I  believe,  to  pay  the  first 
year's  losses  on  the  Derby." 

"Yet  my  horse  won,"  interrupted  Lord  Caraven. 

"The  winning  of  that  Derby  was  your  ruin,  my  lord. 
After  that  you  continually  forestalled  your  income  by 
borrowing  money;  then  your  losses  on  the  turf  and  the 
gaming-table  were  so  great  that  you  were  compelled 
to  raise  a  heavy  mortgage  on  the  estate;  then  you 
borrowed  money  on  the  pictures,  the  plate,  and  the 
furniture  at  Ravensmere.  In  fact,  my  lord,  briefly 
told,  your  situation  is  this — you  are  hopelessly,  help- 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


lessly  ruined.  You  owe  sixty  thousand  pounds  mort- 
gage money,  you  owe  forty  thousand  pounds  borrowed 
money — and  you  have  nothing  to  pay  it  with.  You 
received  notice  from  me  six  months  since  that  the 
mortgage  money  was  called  in.  Unless  it  is  paid  in 
six  weeks  from  now,  the  estate — Ravensmere  Castle, 
with  all  its  belongings — passes  from  you;  it  will  be 
seized  with  all  it  contains." 

"And  you  are  quite  sure  that  I  can  borrow  no 
more?"  asked  the  earl. 

"Quite  sure,  my  lord;  you  have  sold  all  the  timber 
that  you  could  sell;  as  I  told  you — the  only  thing  left 
is  yourself, H 

"Then,  unless  I  repay  sixty  thousand  pounds  in  six 
weeks,  Ravensmere  becomes  the  property  of  the  man 
who  lent  the  money?" 

"Precisely  so,"  replied  Arley  Ransome. 

"Then  I  hope  he  may  live  to  enjoy  it,  for  I  have 
not  sixty  shillings.  Hush!"  he  continued,  seeing  that 
the  lawyer  was  about  to  speak — "no  comments!  I  am 
a  ruined  man,  as  you  say,  but  I  will  not  submit  to" 
criticism;  I  say  frankly,  that  I  have  been  a  wicked 
spendthrift— a  prodigal;  I  say  frankly  that,  if  I  could 
begin  life  again,  I  would  live  differently.  I  have  been 
worse  than  a  fool,  I  have  been  a  dupe.  It  is  all  over 
now  and  I  have  the  price  of  my  folly  to  pay." 

"It  is  a  bitter  price,  too,  my  lord.  May  I  ask -what 
you  think  of  doing?" 

"You  may  ask — I  know  no  answer.  In  six  weeks  I 
lose  Ravensmere,  and  with  it  all  sources  of  income; 
and,  beside  that,  I  am  forty  thousand  pounds  in  debt, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


It 


and  I  have  not  forty  shillings  to  pay  it  with.  It  seem? 
to  me  there  is  but  one  thing  to  be  done." 

Arley  Ransome  looked  up  anxiously.  "What  it 
that?  "  he  asked. 

"I  had  be.tter  invest  the  trifle  I  have  remaining  in 
the  purchase  of  a  revolver — you  can  imagine  for  what 
purpose;  it  will  be  but  a  fitting  end  to  such  a  career 
as  mine.  I  really  do  not  think,  Ransome,  that  I  have 
had  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  worth  of  pleasure. 
What  comments  the  newspapers  will  make  upon  me! 
They  will  head  their  paragraphs  'Suicide  of  a  Spend- 
thrift Earl' — they  will  draw  excellent  morals  and  warn- 
ings from  my  f^te.  Men  of  my  age  will  read  it  and 
think  what  a  dupe  I  must  have  been:  it  will  not  be  a 
noble  ending  for  the  last  of  the  Caravens." 

"It  will  not  indeed,"  said  Arley  Ransome. 

"I  remember  that  on  the  day  I  came  of  age  I  meant 
to  do  better  than  this — Ransome,  before  heaven,  I 
did.  They  called  me  the  handsome,  the  hospitable 
earl:  now  my  title  is  the  spendthrift,  the  ruined  earl. 
There  is  nothing  for  it  but  a  revolver.  I  cannot  beg, 
I  cannot  work,  I  cannot  live  without  money  and  luxury 
and  pleasure;  without  these  I  must  die." 

He  spoke  calmly,  as  though  he  were  arranging 
some  plan  of  travel.  Arley  Ransome  looked  admir- 
ingly at  him. 

"How  this  blue  blood  tells!"  thought  the  lawyer. 
"Some  men  would  haVe  cried  and  moaned,  would  have 
asked  for  time  and  for  pity.  He  faces  ruin  much  as 
his  ancestors  faced  death  on  the  battle-field."  Then 
seeing  the  earl's  eyes  fixed  on  him,  he  said,  "It  is  a 
sorry  ending,  my  lord/' 


12 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


MYes,  a  sorry  ending  for  the  last  of  the  Caravens. 
My  poor  father  called  me  Ulric,  after  one  of  our  an- 
cestors who  saved  a  king's  life  by  his  bravery.  I  have 
not  been  a  worthy  descendant  of  that  Ulric  Caraven 
who  received  in  his  own  breast  the  sword  meant  for 
his  liege  lord.  There  is  nothing  for  it,  Ransome,  but 
the  revolver.  I  have  lived  like  a  king,  I  have  spent 
royally — I  have  given  royally  too,  but  that  does  not 
matter;  I  have  done  good,  as  I  believed;  I  have  lav- 
ished thousands;  I  have  gambled  and  betted;  I  have 
poured  out  wealth  like  water  under  my  feet.  Now  it 
is  over;  it  has  been  a  short  life  but  a  merry  one.  I 
could  not  live  in  poverty;  I  could  not  count  shillings 
and  pounds,  measure,  weigh,  and  calculate.  I  loathe 
the  name  and  thought  of  poverty.  As  I  have  lived  so 
I  must  die.     I  deserve  no  better  fate." 

Arley  Ransome  looked  at  the  calm,  handsome  face. 

"You  do  not  seriously  mean  that  you  will  take  your 
own  life,  my  lord?"  he  interrogated. 

"It  seems  to  be  the  only  thing  left  for  me  to  take/' 
replied  the  earl;  "I  have  lost  everything  else." 

"Will  you  listen  to  me,  Lord  Caraven — listen  in 
patience?    I  have  something  to  say." 

The  earl  laid  down  his  cigar.  The  lawyer  was  so 
earnest,  so  intent,  that  he  carried  the  other's  weaker 
will  with  him. 

"I  have  worked  hard  all  my  life/'  said  Arley  Ran- 
some— "worked  as  few  men  have  ever  done  before — 
from  sunrise  to  sunset,  and  often  through  the  long, 
silent  night  I  have  worked  because  I  love  money — 
because  I  am   ambitious;  because  I  have  had  an  end 


tfROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


in  view,  You  know,  my  lord,  that  beside  practicing 
as  a  lawyer  I  have  been,  and  am  now,  a  money  lender; 
it  is  no  news  to  you  that  I  advanced  the  mortgage- 
money  on  Ravenemere,  and  that,^  unless  you  pay  it, 
the  estate  becomes  mine." 

The  earl's  pale,  handsome  face  flushed  hotly.  It 
was  hard  to  picture  his  grand  ancestral  home  in  the 
plebeian  hands  of  a  money-lender. 

"There  is,  as  Milton  says,  <a  lower  depth/  and 
Ravensmere  will  fall  into  it,"  he  said. 

"It  becomes  mine,"  continued  Arley  Ransome.  "The 
castle,  the  estate,  the  plate,  the  pictures — they  are  all 
mine.  Now  listen,  my  lord,  I  have  made  a  fortune; 
you  inherited  one,  I  have  made  one." 

"You  might  well  do  so,  lending  money  at  a  hundred 
per  cent." 

"Never  mind  how  it  has  been  made — I  have  it," 
said  the  lawyer;  "and  my  fortune  amounts  to  two 
hundred  thousand  pounds." 

"Heaven  help  those  by  whom  you  have  made  it!" 

"It  has  been  honestly  made.  You  have  gambled,  my 
.ord;  I  have  speculated — and  my  speculations  have  all 
turned  out  well.  I  have  two  hundred  thousand 
younds,  and— I  have  a  daughter."  His  voice  sank, 
as  though  he  were  somewhat  ashamed  of  his  words; 
then  he  continued:  "1  have  made  money  because  I 
love  it;  I  want  to  make  a  position  because  X  am  am* 
iitious.  Would  to  heaven  that  I  had  a  son!  I  have 
spent  my  life  toiling  in  these  gloomy  offices;  hope 
has  brightened  them.  Would  to  heaven  that  I  had  a 
son  to  carry  out  my  dreams,  my  hopes,  my  plans! 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


If  I  had  a  son  to  succeeed  me,  my  lord,  I  would  fore* 
close  at  once,  and  make  him  master  of  Ravensmere." 

"Thank  you,"  interposed  Lord  Caraven. 

"I  have  a  daughter,  and  she  must  take  the  place  I 
would  fain  have  given  to  my  boy.  My  lord,  I  make 
you  this  offer.  You  are  a  ruined  man;  you  tell  me 
there  remains  for  you  no  hope — nothing  but  death. 
Now  I  will  give  you  life,  liberty,  wealth.  I  will  make 
you  greater  than  any  of  the  Earls  of  Caraven  have 
been  yet.  I  will  give  my  daughter  a  dowry  of  two 
hundred  thousand  pounds  if  you  will  marry  her. " 

Lord  Caraven  lost  his  self-possession  for  one  half 
minute;  he  literally  looked  as  he    felt — bewildered. 

"I  do  not  understand,"  he  said,  slowly. 

"Then  I  will  make  my  meaning  even  plainer,"  Re- 
turned Arley  Ransome.  "Make  my  daughter  Countess 
of  Caraven,  and  I,  in  return,  will  make  you  a  rich 
man. " 

The  earl  laughed  a  little  incredulous  laugh  that 
made  the  lawyer's  face  flush. 

"Listen,  my  lord,"  he  said;  "wait  before  you  speak. 
I  am  ambitious — I  am  ambitious  for  my  daughter. 
Make  her  Countess  of  Caraven,  and  hear  what  I  will 
do  for  you.  I  will  first  pay  the  mortgage-money,  the 
sixty  thousand  pounds;  I  will  clear  the  estate  of  all 
incumbrances,  and  you  shall  have  your  rent-roll  free. 
I  will  also  pay  the  forty  thousand  that  you  owe,  leav- 
ing you  a  free  man.  The  rest  of  the  money  I  shall 
settle  on  my  daughter  for  her  own  use  and  benefit 
Think  before  you  answer  me." 

"I  am  not  a  slave-dealer,"  was  the  opiet  reply. 


PROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


*5 


"Nor  am  I,  my  lord.  I  am  speaking  of  my  daughter, 
who  is  no  slave. " 

"Yet  you  are  selling  her  as  a  Southern  planter 
might  have  sold  his  servant,"  replied  the  earl. 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,  Lord  Caraven.  I  want  rank 
— you  want  money.  Give  me  rank — I  will  give  you 
money.    It  is  a  fair,  honest  bargain." 

"I  have  been  a  spendthrift  and  a  prodigal,  but  I 
have  not  fallen  so  low  as  that,  Mr.  Ransome.  I  do 
not  think  that  I  shall  purchase  my  life,  my  safety, 
my  fortune,  with  a  woman's  gold." 

"It  is  not  a  woman's  gold;  it  is  mine,  my  lord," 
said  the  lawyer.  "Marry  my  daughter,  and  you  will 
not  have  another  care  in  the  world.  She  will  be  happy, 
you  will  be  free  and  wealthy,  I  shall  be  content." 

"I  have  known  the  time,"  remarked  Lord  Caraven, 
when  I  should  have  horsewhipped  any  man  who  dared 
to  make  such  a  proposition  to  me.  I  imagine  all  fine 
feeling  has  become  extinct  in  me.  Can  you  not  man- 
age all  this  for  me  without  asking  me  to  marry  your 
daughter?  M 

"No,"  replied  the  lawyer,  quietly.  "As  I  have  told 
3'ou,  if  I  had  a  son,  he  should  have  been  master  of 
Ravensmere;  failing  that,  my  daughter  must  be  its 
mistress." 

"Not  witK  my  consent,"  said  the  earl,  haughtily. 

"Your  rt  usal  to  marry  her  makes  her  more  certainly 
so.  If  y**u  refuse — if  you  prefer  ruin,  disgrace,  dis- 
honor, shame,  and  death,  to  marrying  an  innocent  girl, 
whose  fortune  would  set  you  straight  in  the  world — it 
is  at  yo'*r  own   option.    If  you  refuse  to   make  my 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


daughter  Countess  of  Caraven,  in  two  months'  time 
she  will  be  known  over  the  land  as  Miss  Ransome  of 
Raveftsmere — you  will  have  gained  nothing  by  your 
refusal." 

The  earl  saw  it,  and  for  the  first  time  during  the 
interview  the  calmness  of  his  face  and  manner  was 
broken. 

"I  have  never  seen  the  girl — I  do  not  know  if  I 
could  endure  her.  I  tell  you,  Ransome,  this  affair  of 
yours  outrivals  the  bids  in  the  slave  markets." 

'Nonsense,  my  lord;  I  have  only  copied  a  French 
custom.  All  that  nonsense  about  love  is  but  a  relic 
of  barbarism.  The  French  are  the  most  civilized  of 
nations.  How  do  they  arrange  their  marriages?  Just 
as  I  wish  to  arrange  this.  Who  hears  of  love  before 
marriage  with  them?  You  want  money—  I  offer  you  a 
certain  sum,  with  a  fair  young  wife." 

"You  must  know  that,  although  I  am  a  ruined  man, 
there  is  an  immense  difference  between  the  Earl  of 
Caraven  and  the  daughter  of  a  money-lender,"  said 
the"  young  nobleman.  "There  can  be  no  happiness  in 
marriage  where  there  is  so  great  an  inequality." 

"The  advantages  and  the  losses  are  equal,"  replied 
Arley.  "There  are  men  who,  in  my  place,  would  not 
act  as  I  am  doing — who  would  think  twice  before  offer- 
ing wife  and  fortune  to  one — pardon  me — so  little 
deserving  them." 

'You  cannot  care  much  for  your  daughter,  to  be 
willing  to  sacrifice  her  to  a  spendthrift,"  said  the  earl. 

"My  lord,  each  one  among  us  has  his  price.  I  want 
title,  rank  and  position  for  my  daughter.    You  ran 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


17 


give  them  to  her.  You  want  wealth — she  will  bring 
that  to  you.    Will  you  give  me  an  answer?" 

"I  should  not  purchase  a  picture  without  looking  at 
it,"  said  the  earl.  "I  cannot  promise  to  marry  a  lady 
whom  I  have  never  seen." 

"You  shall  see  her,  my  lord — at  once,  if  you  will." 

The  earl  looked  around  him.  "Where?"  he  asked, 
briefly. 

The  lawyer's  face  flushed. 

"I  do  not  keep  my  daughter  here,  Lord  Caraven, 
among  deeds  and  papers.  She  is  a  lady  by  education, 
and  lives  at  her  own  home." 

"Where  is  that?"  asked  the  earl,  carelessly. 

"At  the  Hollies,  near  Kew,  my  lord.  If  you  please, 
we  will  drive  down  there." 

"I  do  not  know — it  is  not  right — I  do  not  care  to 
save  myself  in  such  a  fashion.  Even  if  I  married  your 
daughter,  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  should  not  like  her." 

"Every  one  likes  Hildred,"  said  Mr.  Ransome. 

"Hildred!  That  is  a  pretty,  quaint  name,"  said  the 
earl.  "I  do  not  mind  going  to  the  Hollies  with  you, 
but  I  shall  make  no  promise.  If  I  should  not  like 
your  daughter,  she  would  be  very  miserable." 

"As  you  please,  my  lord;  I  shall  urge  no  more.  I 
am  determined  that  my  daughter  shall  marry  into  the 
Peerage;  my  whole  heart  is  set  upon  it.  You  are  not 
the  only  nobleman  on  my  books.  I  will  say  no  more 
about  it.  You  will  have  the  money  ready  for  me  or 
give  up  Ravensmere  at  the  appointed  time." 

While  the  lawyer  urged  him,  Lord  Caraven  had 
been  firm  in  his  refusal.    Now  that  he  stood  face  to 


iS 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


face  with  bitter,  black  ruin,  shame,  and  disgrace,  with 
ignominy  and  death,  now  that  the  urgent  pleadings 
ceased,  he  at  once  began  to  waver. 

"I  will  go  down  to  your  place  with   you,"  he  said. 

"As  you  please,  my  lord, "  was  the  cautious  answer. 

Mr.  Ransome  began  to  perceive  that  the  less  he  said 
the  better  it  would  be  for  his  cause. 

*  My  cab  is  at  the  door^'  continued  the  earl.  "We 
can  go  in  that." 

Without  another  word  they  started,  Lord  Caraven 
feeling  more  decidedly  ashamed  of  himself  than  he 
had  felt  yet.  It  was  one  thing  to  be  considered  the 
"fastest"  man,  the  greatest  spendthrift  of  the  day, 
and  another  to  purchase  his  safety  by  such  a  marriage 
as  this. 

"A  money-lender's  daughter!  I  cannot  do  it,"  he 
said  to  himself  more  than  once.  "She  is  sure  to  be 
vulgar;  she  will  have  red  hair,  and  will  be  highly 
delighted  at  the  idea  of  being  a  countess.  What 
should  I  do  with  such  a  wife — I  who  have  worshiped 
a  hundred  beautiful  women?" 


CHAPTER  II 


"she  will  never  be  a  loved  wife  of  mine" 

The  Earl  of  Caraven  was  on  the  whole  rather  sur- 
prised when  the  cab  stopped.  The  Hollies  was  of  far 
greater  extent  than  he  had  thought — a  pretty  villa 
standing  in  its  own  grounds,  those  same  grounds 
beautifully  laid  out.  On  this  bright  June  morning  he 
saw  flowers  and  trees,  the  silver  spray  of  a  fountain, 
the  drooping  branches  of  a  grand  old  cedar;  and  he 
owned  to  himself  that  it  was  a  far  better  style  of 
place  than  he  had  expected  to  see.  He  said  so  to  Mr. 
Ransome,  who  answered  quietly  that  he  might  be  as 
agreeably  surprised  about  his  daughter  as  he  had  been 
about  his  house. 

Lord  Caraven*  s  face  fell. 

"Do  you  know,  I  had  almost  forgotten  why  I  was 
here,"  he  said.  "I  have  the  grace  left  to  feel  ashamed 
of  myself." 

Without  another  word  the  lawyer  entered  the  house, 
the  earl  following  him 

"Where  is  Miss  Ransome?"  asked  the  master  of  the 
place.    "Say  that  I  want  her  at  once." 

Again,  when  they  entered  the  drawing-room,  Lord 
Caraven  was  agreeably  surprised.  Whatever  it  might 
be,  it  was  not  a  vulgar  room;  there  was  no  new  gild- 
ing, no  tawdry  coloring;  it  was  all  harmony — a  room 

19 


20 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


filled  with  soft  rose-light  and  the  odor  of  fragrant 
flowers — a  room  that  gave  one  the  impression  that  a 
lady  used  it;  no  vulgar  woman,  no  would-be  fine  lady, 
would  have  given  so  refined  a  character  to  a  room. 

He  was  pleased  without  knowing  why.  The  day 
was  warm  and  sultry;  he  was  tired,  and  the  fragrance, 
the  silence,  the  pleasant  shade  of  the  room,  soothed 
him. 

There  was  a  sound  of  footsteps.  Mr.  Ransome  rose 
hurriedly.  . 

"Here  is  my  daughter,"  he  said. 

Lord  Caraven  looked  up  with  some  faint  gleam  of 
curiosity.  He  had  expected  a  vulgar  school-girl,  a  pert, 
affected  "miss,"  who  would  smile  and  blush,  and  exer- 
cise all  the  little  arts  of  coquetry  that  she  had  learned 
at  some  third-rate  boarding-school.  He  was  quite 
wrong.  He  saw  before  him  a  tall,  slender  girl,  with 
beautiful  dark  eyes,  and  a  pale  face,  a  girl  graceful 
and  self-possessed,  grave  and  earnest — not  beautiful 
yet,  although  there  was  the  promise  of  a  magnificent 
womanhood.  No,  certainly  she  was  not  beautiful;  her 
figure  was  tall  and  slender,  but  it  lacked  roundness 
and  grace.  The  hands  were  beautiful,  but  the  arms 
were  thin;  there  was  something  too  much  of  the  child, 
without  sufficient  of  the  grace  of  the  woman. 

"She  is  not  vulgar,  at  least,"  he  said  to  himself,  as 
the  grave,  dark  eyes  met  his  own.  "I  should  really 
have  run  away  had  she  been  what  my  fancy  painted 
her — thank  heaven  she  is  not.  Unformed,  shy,  inex- 
perienced, half-frightened,  what  a  wife  for  me — what 
a  mistress  for  Ravensmere!  I  have  no  fault  to  find 
with  her,  but  I  shall  never  like  her." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


21 


So  he  thought,  as  in  few,  brief  words  the  money- 
lender introduced  his  client  to  his  daughter.  There 
was  nothing  awkward  in  her  manner,  but  she  was  shy 
— frightened.  She  answered  the  few  questions  he 
asked — her  voice  was  sweet  and  clear,  with  a  true  ring 
about  it  that  he  liked — and  then  relapsed  into  silence. 

Her  father  asked  her  for  a  set  of  engravings,  and, 
as  she  crossed  the  room,  Lord  Caraven  saw  that  she 
had  a  queenly  head,  crowned  with  a  profusion  of  beau- 
tiful dark  hair;  she  also  had  a  pleasant  grace  of  move- 
ment that  for  an  unformed  school-girl  was  rare. 

"Is  it  to  be  'Yes'  or  'No'?"  asked  Arley  Ransome 
as  his  daughter  passed  for  a  minute  or  two  out  of 
sight.  "You  have  seen  Hildred  now — you  can  judge 
for  yourself;  give  me  your  answer." 

With  a  sudden  smile — and  it  was  wonderful  how 
that  smile  changed  his  face — Lord  Caraven  turned  to 
his  host 

"I  really  think,"  he  said,  "that  she  is  emphatically 
a  nice  girl — too  nice  to  be  sacrificed." 

"It  is  no  sacrifice — she  will  be  happy,"  replied  her 
father.  "Do  you  say  'Yes'  or  'No/  my  lord?  Time 
is  money  to  me.'1 

"You  give  me  less  time  for  consideration  than  you 
would  give  to  a  man  buying  a  picture,"  he  replied. 
"I  see  no  hope  in  any  other  way;  if  I  did,  I  should 
refuse.  I  tell  you  frankly  that  I  shall  never  like  your 
daughter;  you  thrust  her  upon  me,  you  make  her  the 
only  plank  between  my  miserable  self  and  the  dark 
waters  of  death.  I  shall  never  like  her — first  of  all, 
because  she  is  your  daughter;  secondly,  because  she 
is  not  at  all  the  style  of  girl  that  I  do  admire." 


22 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"You  are  very  frank,  my  lord.    Will  you  answer  me 

one  question?    Do  you  love  anyone  else?" 

The  young  earl  looked  puzzled. 

"The  fact  is,"  he  said,  "that  I  have  loved  so  many, 
I  really*-" 

"What  I  mean  is,  you  are  not  betrothed — you  have 
never  made  an  offer  of  marriage  to  anyone  else?" 

"I  have  not  had  time  even  to  think  of  marriage — 
that  is  why  I  dislike  the  idea  of  it  now." 

"Then  that  settles  the  matter.  You  say  'Yes,'  and 
I  say  'Yes;'  Hildred  will  be  willing — girls  love  posi- 
tion, and  she  is  very  proud. " 

Something  akin  to  pity  stirred  in  the  earl's  heart. 

"What  is  Miss  Ransome's  age?"  he  asked. 

"She  will  soon  be  eighteen,"  replied  the  lawyer. 

"And,"  said  Caraven,  "so  young  as  that,  do  you 
feel  no  reluctance  at  giving  her  to  a  man  who  tells 
you  honestly  that  he  will  never  like  her?" 

"You  will  like  her  well  enough  in  time,"  replied  the 
lawyer.  "Some  of  the  happiest  marriages  in  the  world 
have  begun  with  a  little  aversion." 

"There  might  be  more  hope  if  mine  were  a  little 
aversion,"  said  Lord  Caraven.  ,  "It  is  something  worse 
— it  is  profound,  fatal  indifference.  Your  daughter 
may  be  Countess  of  Caraven,  if  that  be  your  ambition, 
but  she  will  never  be  loved  wife  of  mine.  She  is  not 
the  style  of  girl  that  I  admire.  She  is  shy,  unformed; 
I  like  a  graceful,  lovely,  radiant  woman — that  she 
never  will  be." 

'She  has  the  clearest  sense,  the  soundest  judgment, 
and  the  best  disposition  of  anyone  I  know" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


33 


"Possibly,"  said  the  earl,  carelessly.  "Now  you 
know  the  terms,  it  remains  for  you  to  say  'Yes/  Your 
daughter  shall  be  Countess  of  Caraven;  she  shall  go 
to  court;  she  shall  be  the  leading  lady  of  the 
county;  she  will  have  the  family  diamonds  and  all 
that  vain  women  most  desire — but  I  shall  never  love 
her,  and,  what  is  more,  I  shall  never  even  pretend 
to  do  so." 

Arley  Ransome  laughed. 

"Hildred  will  do  very  well  without  that,"  he  replied. 
"Then  the  bargain  is  struck,  my  lord.  We  will  say 
nothing  to  my  daughter  to-day;  to-morrow  I  will 
speak  to  her  myself.  Allow  me  to  congratulate  you; 
you  are  a  free  man  now,  Lord  Caraven,  and  a  wealthy 
one." 

"I  should  have  been  a  wiser  one  had  I  taken  the 
revolver,"  he  replied;  and  then  Miss  Ransome  returned 
with  the  engravings. 

After  a  few  courteous  words  he  went  away,  leaving 
Arley  Ransome  in  a  state  of  great  delight  and  elation. 

The  Earl  of  Caraven  thought  more  of  himself  than 
of  the  girl.  He  was  ashamed  of  the  bargain,  although 
it  was  to  save  himself  from  ruin  and  death. 

"Every  time  I  look  at  her,"  he  said  to  himself,  "it 
will  be  a  perpetual  reminder  of  the  most  cowardly 
action  of  my  life.  I  had  rather  a  respect  for  myself  as 
a  thorough-going  spendthrift ;  I  despise  myself  as 
being  the  chief  partner  in  such  a  sorry  bargain.  I 
ask  pardon  of  all  the  dead  and  gone  Caravens  for 
bringing  a  money-lender's  daughter  to  Ravensmere." 

He  was  ashamed  of  himself!     He  had  lived  without 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


restraint;  but,  as  his  flatterers  said,  "his  vices  were 
those  of  a  gentleman."  He  had  done  nothing  that 
they  considered  unworthy  of  one.  He  had  no  broken 
heart,  no  ruined  home,  laid  to  his  charge.  In  his  way 
he  had  always  respected  innocence  and  purity.  His 
faults  lay  in  another  direction. 

It  had  been  the  misfortune  of  Ulric,  Earl  of  Cara- 
ven,  to  be  born  in  the  purple.  All  the  good  qualities 
innate  in  him  had  been  carefully  stifled  and  stamped 
out  by  the  most  foolish  indulgence  of  parents  who 
called  insolence  and  tyranny  high  spirits,  who  con- 
sidered selfishness  clever,  who  fostered  his  faults 
instead  of  correcting  them.  He  grew  up  with  the  idea 
that  the  world  was  made  for  him — that  he  by  some 
especial  privilege  was  better  than  anyone  else — that 
everything  and  everyone  must  give  way  to  him.  His 
weak,  foolish  mother  died  first;  and  as  she  lay  dying, 
some  doubt  of  the  wisdom  of  her  behavior  evidently 
came  over  her,  for  the  last  words  she  whispered  to  her 
husband  were: 

"I  am  sorely  afraid  for  the  boy." 

But  Ulric's  father  had  no  fear;  he  continued  the 
ruinous  system — the  child  did  as  he  liked,  said  whaV 
he  liked,  thought  what  he  liked.  As  for  restraint  of 
any  kind,  it  never  occurred  to  his  parent  to  exercise 
it;  the  boy  was  denied  nothing  that  he  wished.  He 
grew  up  to  have  no  thought  but  of  himself. 

So,  when  the  old  earl  died,  and  he  succeeded,  he 
thought  the  world  was  at  his  feet  for  him  to  use  as 
he  would;  his  estate  was  to  be  burdened  and  mort- 
gaged to  give  him  money,  the  tenants  were  to  be  dis- 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


25 


tressed  and  hard-worked  to  pay  him  extra  rents. 
When  he  discovered  that  matters  were  going  wrong, 
he  made  them  worse  by  engaging  an  agent,  a  Mr. 
Blantyre,  who  was  to  oppress,  more  than  he  himself 
dared  to  do.  There  was  no  restraint  on  the  earl  as  a 
man;  he  was  surrounded  by  flatterers,  by  bad  com- 
panions; he  soon  became  a  proficient  in  all  fashion- 
able sins.  It  was  an  unfortunate  day  for  him  when 
the  turf  mania  seized  him.  His  flatterers — those  who 
intended  to  win  his  money,  and  who  did  win  it — per- 
suaded him  that  he  was  the  best  judge  of  horses  in 
England;  in  reality  he  knew  nothing  about  them. 
But  when  he  once  began  betting  his  career  was  a 
short  one.  In  seven  years  he  was  a  ruined  man;  still 
in  the  spring  of  his  life,  he  had  run  through  a  noble 
fortune.  In  despair  at  the  prospect  before  him,  he 
placed  all  his  affairs  in  the  hands  of  Arley  Ransome, 
one  of  the  shrewdest  and  cleverest  men  in  London. 
Guided  by  him  in  all  things,  he  had  gone  steadily  to 
ruin;  and  on  this  bright  June  day,  when  the  sunshine 
bade  the  whole  world  be  gay,  he  stood  a  ruined,  hope- 
less, helpless  man. 

He  was  quite  serious  in  saying  that  he  preferred 
death  to  life  and  poverty.  He  had  lived  in  luxury 
from  the  day  of  his  birth;  death  had  less  horror  for 
him  than  the  ennui,  the  misery,  the  loathsomeness  of 
poverty.  The  day  came  when  he  wanted  twenty 
pounds  and  could  not  raise  it — when  Mr.  Blantyre 
threw  up  his  hands,  declaring  that  the  estate  had  been 
drained  to  its  last  farthing.  Then  the  earl,  suddenly 
brought  to  his  senses,  wrote  to  Arley  Ransome,  asking 


26 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


him  to  let  him  know  the  exact  state  of  his  affairs.  The 
result  was  his  knowledge  of  inevitable  ruin. 

Then  came  Arley  Ransome's  scheme,  the  plan  that 
he  had  brooded  over  for  long  years.  He  was  the  son 
of  a  lawyer  who  had  not  succeeded  very  well  in  the 
world,  and  he  had  vowed  to  succeed  himself.  He  had 
studied  the  law — he  was  a  keen,  clever,  shrewd  man, 
but  his  fortune  had  been  made  by  money-lending.  His 
practice  as  a  lawyer  brought  him  into  contact  with 
moneyed  people,  also  with  people  who  wanted  money, 
and  he  made  fhe  most  of  his  advantages;  he  had 
acquired  an  enormous  fortune.  His  money-lending 
business  was  carried  on  under  another  name  in  another 
part  of  the  city;  his  plan  was  to  send  all  his  needy 
clients  to  this  office,  and  his  gains  were  enormous. 

He  lived  for  an  object,  and  it  was  ambition.  To 
his  bitter  sorrow  he  had  no  son;  but  he  was  deter- 
mined that  his  daughter  should  marry  one  whose  posi- 
tion and  title  should  shed  their  reflected  glory  on  him. 
To  be  the  father  of  a  countess,  to  speak  of  his  daugh- 
ter as  the  Countess  of  Caraven,  was  the  height  of  his 
ambition — and  now  it  was  to  be  gratified. 


CHAPTER  III 


"xS  LOVE  A  NEEDFUL  PART  OF  MARRIAGE? " 

Arley  Ransome  had  decided  upon  telling  his  daugh- 
ter of  the  future  that  awaited  hue.  He  was  not  quite 
sure  of  her.  He  had  studied  law  in  all  its  branches, 
money-making  in  all  its  forms;  but  he  had  not  studied 
character — his  daughter  was  almost  a  stranger  to  him. 
She  had  been  educated  abroad.  Her  mother  died 
soon  after  her  birth,  a  id  he,  devoted  to  business,  had 
not  cared  to  have  a  ch  id  distract  his  attention.  He 
lived  then  at  his  chambers.  Bat  when  Hildred  was 
seventeen  he  went  over  to  Germany  to  see  her,  and 
was  charmed  with  her  He  found  her  highly  edu- 
cated, brilliantly  accomplished  ami  intelligent,  and, 
in  his  opinion,  she  gave  great  promise  of  a  beautiful 
womanhood. 

She  was  not  a  beautiful  girl,  but  she  was  striking 
and  distinguished-looking.  If  one  entered  a  room  full 
of  people  and  she  was  there,  her  face  would  strike 
one  first;  it  would  be  remembered  the  longest.  It 
was  a  face  indicative  of  capability,  Spanish  in  its 
coloring.  Her  grandfather  was  a  Spaniard,  and  some- 
thing of  the  spirit  of  the  old  cavaliers  of  Spain  had 
descended  to  her. 

The  hones  in  which  Mr.  Ransome  had  indulged 
became  almost  certainties  to   him   when   he   saw  his 

27 


28 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


daughter.  She  must  marry  well,  and  his  ambition 
must  be  gratified  through  her.  He  had  no  son.  On 
this  dark-eyed  girl  must  devolve  the  duty  of  carrying 
out  his  schemes. 

He  smiled  at  himself  as  he  thought  that  on  his 
books  he  had  the  names  of  noblemen  who  would  be 
thankful  for  a  wife  with  such  a  fortune  as  he  could 
give  Hildred.  He  had  but  to  choose  among  them, 
and  his  choice  fell  upon  the  Earl  of  Caraven.  His 
title  was  the  most  ancient,  his  estates  were  the  larg- 
est, his  ruin  was  the  most  complete. 

"I  could  build  up  one  or  two  more  earldoms," 
thought  the  ambitious  lawyer  to  himself.  "Who  says 
that  money  is  not  the  prop  of  the  world?" 

He  decided  at  once  on  taking  a  house  in  the  out- 
skirts of  London  and  installing  his  daughter  as  mis- 
tress there.  It  was  done  at  once,  and  then  Mr.  Ran- 
some  began  to  put  his  scheme  into  action.  He  knew 
that  the  young  earl  had  come  to  the  end  of  his  re- 
sources    It  would  all  be  plain  sailing  for  him  now. 

But  there  was  one  person  he  had  not  taken  into 
account,  and  that  was  his  daughter.  He  had  never 
dreamed  of  anything  except  blind  submission  from 
her.  Now  he  began  to  ask  himself,  "Will  she  ob- 
ject?" She  had  plenty  of  character,  plenty  of  spirit 
life,  activity,  energy.  Would  she  submit  to  his  barter 
and  exchange?  Would  she  blush  and  smile  after  the 
fashion  of  girls  who  are  delighted?  Would  she  be 
pleased  to  be  a  countess,  or  would  she  draw  herself 
up  in  disdain  and  tell  him  she  was  neither  to  be 
bought  nor  sold?    He  was  doubtful  as  to  which  it 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


29 


would  be,  and  he  therefore  approached  the  subject 
with  some  little  hesitation. 

That  same  evening — for  it  was  a  rule  of  Arley  Ran- 
some's  to  do  quickly  what  required  doing  at  all — he 
told  her.  He  remembered  it  long  years  afterward — as 
did  she. 

It  was  a  lovely  June  evening,  and  the  world  seemed 
to  be  full  of  music  and  perfume.  The  sun  had  set, 
and  dim,  mystical  twilight  lay  over  the  land,  enshroud- 
ing the  river  and  the  tall  green  trees;  the  birds  seemed 
loath  to  give  up  singing;  now  and  then  a  faint  sweet 
song  stirred  the  dewy  air.  It  was  one  of  those  even- 
ings on  which  it  seems  impossible  to  believe  in  any- 
thing but  what  is  good,  and  true,  and  beautiful,  when 
the  dew,  and  the  flowers,  and  the  sunset  take  our 
hearts  and  thoughts  to  heaven. 

Hildred  had  gone  through  the  grounds  down  to  the 
banks  of  the  river;  slv.  sat  there  watching  the  color  of 
the  water  change  as  the  twilight  deepened.  A  tall  beech 
tree,  with  superb  spreading  branches,  grew  near;  the 
grass  was  studded  with  white  and  golden  flowers. 
There  Arley  Ransome  found  her,  the  daughter  on 
whom  he  had  built  all  his  hopes  of  fame  and  fortune, 
her  dark  eyes  fixed  on  the  tranquil  stream,  her  white 
hands  lying  listlessly  on  her  knee. 

"Hildred,"  said  Arley  Ransome,  "I  have  something 
very  particular  to  say  to  you.  I  will  sit  down  by  yojir 
side.  How  gloriously  beautiful  the  river  looks  to- 
night! H 

Hildred  Ransome  loved  her  father— he  was  the  only 
relative  she  had  except  a  cousin  whom  she  had  never 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


seen — but  it  was  not  with  the  ordinary  love  of  a  girl 
for  her  father.  She  had  not  quite  made  up  her  mind 
about  him.  She  watched  him  with  keen  interest,  and 
the  sharp-witted,  keen,  shrewd  lawyer, who  could  fright- 
en a  witness  into  saying  anything  he  wished  him  to 
say,  shrank  before  the  dark  eyes  of  his  daughter. 

She  looked  up  at  him  now  with  some  little  curiosity. 
What  had  he  to  say  to  her?  How  was  it  that  the 
clear  gaze  of  those  dark  eyes  troubled  him  so  greatly? 

"Something  to  say  to  me?"  she  repeated,  dreamily. 
"You  could  not  have  chosen  a  better  time  for  saying  it, 
papa.  I  never  care  to  talk  on  nights  like  these.  I 
can  only  listen." 

"The  brightest  hope  of  my  life  has  been  accom- 
plished to-day,  Hildred,"  he  began;  "that  which  I  have 
longed  for  has  been  given  to  me.  I  have  been  pleased, 
proud,  and  happy." 

He  saw  that  her  interest  was  awakened,  that  her 
eyes  brightened.    She  looked  earnestly  at  him. 

"Pleased,  proud,  and  happy?  That  seems  a  great 
deal,  papa." 

"It  means  a  great  deal,  Hildred.  To  day  the  Earl 
of  Caraven  has  asked  permission  to  make  you  his 
wife." 

He  has  stretched  the  point;  but  of  what  service 
would  it  have  been  to  have  studied  law  if  he  had  to 
keep  to  facts? 

If  he  had  expected  any  demonstration  of  delight  he 
was  disappointed.  She  made  none.  She  did  not 
biush  or  look  pleased  or  displeased;  the  calmness  of 
her  face  was  unbroken. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


31 


"The  Earl  of  Caraven.  That  is  the  gentleman  I 
saw  to-day,  papa. " 

"Yes,  that  was  Lord  Caraven,  and  he  wishes  to 
make  you  his  wife." 

"But  how  can  that  be,  papa?  He  has  seen  me  only 
once.     Why  should  he  wish  to  marry  me?" 

"That  I  cannot  say,  Hildred,"  he  answered;  "I  am 
better  versed  in  law  than  in  love;  I  can  only  repeat 
what  I  have  told  you.  The  earl  wishes  you  to  be  his 
wife." 

The  dark,  eloquent  eyes  traveled  slowly  from  his 
face  to  the  river,  and  then  back  to  the  shrewd,  eager 
countenance. 

"And  that  is  the  dream  of  your  life,  papa — that  1 
marry  him?" 

"That  you  marry  someone  who  has  title  and  position 
to  give  you,"  he  replied.  "Yes,  I  have  built  my 
hopes  on  it;  that  is  my  way  to  greatness,  my  ambi- 
tion realized." 

"I  liked  him  very  well,"  she  replied,  with  an  air  of 
calm  musing;  "he  is  very  handsome.  But  I  know 
little  about  him." 

"Liked  him!"  repeated  Mr.  Ransome.  "That  is  a 
cold  word.  I  can  tell  you,  Hildred,  that  some  of  the 
loveliest  women  in  London  would  be  flattered  at 
receiving  attention  from  him." 

"Then  why  does  he  not  marry  one  of  those  lovely 
women?"  she  asked,  quietly. 

"Because  he  has  asked  to  marry  you,  Hildred." 

She  thought  for  a  few  moments  in  silence,  and  then 
she  said: 


32 


FR01*I  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  should  be  a  countess,  I  suppose,  papa,  One  o\ 
the  girls  from  St.  Roche,  our  school,  became  a  count- 
ess— everyone  envied  her;  but  her  marriage  was  not 
a  very  happy  one." 

"All  marriages  would  be  happy  if  women  expected 
only  a  little  less  than  they  do,  and  were  rational,"  ho 
said,  hastily. 

She  knitted  her  fair,  white  brow,  while  she  though" 
deeply,  silently. 

"The  Earl  of  Caraven  wants  to  marry  me,  papa-— 
did  he  say  that  he  loved  me?" 

"Gentlemen  seldom  speak  to  lawyers  about  love,  ' 
he  replied,  impatiently.  "This  is  not  a  mere  senti- 
mental, nonsensical  love  affair;  it  is  of  far  greater 
importance.  Give  it  your  serious  attention,  Hildredj 
put  aside  all  the  nonsense." 

Again  the  dark  eyes  wandered  from  the  rippling 
river  to  the  blue  sky,  to  the  green  trees,  the  soft,  dewy 
grass,  the  sleeping  flowers— wandered  uneasily,  as 
though  reading  something  there  that  did  not  harmo- 
nize with  her  father's  words;  then  she  spoke  to  him— 
years  afterward  she  remembered  her  words. 

"That  is  your  dream,  papa—to  see  me  Countess  c\. 
Caraven.  Tell  me — I  have  been  at  school  all  my  life, 
and  I  know  so  little  of  real  life — it  seems  to  n:3  that  1 
have  done  nothing  but  study — I  have  read  few  novels, 
I  know  nothing  of  what  people  call  love,  but  you,  my 
father,  would  not  deceive  me — tell  me,  is  love  a  need- 
ful part  of  marriage?  Is  it  right  to  marry  without  it? 
Are  people  happy  without  it?" 

He  made  no  answer,  he  could  not  look  into  thosff 

4 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM  33 

dark,  eloquent  eyes  and  say  what  he  knew  to  be  false. 

"Because,"  she  continued,  "in  those  few  novels 
which  I  have  read,  love  was  the  motive,  the  pivot  on 
which  everything  else  turned;  those  who  married  with- 
out it  were  punished,  those  who  had  it  overcame  every 
obstacle.    That  was  all  wrong,  then?" 

"Novels  are  only  fiction,  Hildred;  you  cannot  be- 
lieve anything  in  them." 

"I  thought  they  were  pictures  of  real  life,"  she 
rejoined. 

"Only  ideal  pictures;  and,  as  love  happens  to  be  a 
pretty  peg  on  which  writers  can  hang  pretty  thoughts 
and  words,  they  make  the  most  of  it.  In  reality  it  is 
all  nonsense." 

Again  those  dark,  earnest  eyes  were  raised  to  his. 

"You  assure  me  of  that,  papa — that  love  is  nothing 
but  nonsense?" 

A  moment's  fancy,  a  dream  of  a  beautiful  young 
face,  of  dark  eyes  looking  into  his,  of  sweet  lips  he 
had  kissed  with  a  fast  beating  heart  in  the  moonlight, 
came  to  him.  He  drove  the  memory  away.  She  was 
looking  at  him  with  expectant  face,  with  parted  lips, 
and  anxious  eyes. 

"I  ask  you,"  she  continued,  "because  I  say  this  to 
myself,  papa- — if  there  be  no  such  need  for  love — if 
love  is  only  the  poet's  dream  and  the  novelist's  chief 
resource — why,  then  I  may  just  as  well  be  Countess 
of  Caraven  as  anything  else." 

"Most  decidedly,"  he  replied,  with  an  air  of  relief. 

"But,"  she  went  on,  "if  there  is  a  reality  of  love, 
if  love  is  needful  for  happiness,  do  not  let  me  marry 


34 


FROM  OUT  TH£  GLOOM 


without  it.    You  are  my  father,  my  only  friend,  I 

appeal  to  you." 

He  asked  heaven  to  pardon  him  for  answering  such 
an  appeal  falsely.    He  looked  profoundly  wise. 

"My  dear  Hildred,"  he  said,  "you  express  yourself 
so  oddly.  I  believe  that  the  greater  part  of  what  you 
read  and  hear  about  love  is  the  greatest  nonsense — the 
happiest  marriages  are  founded  on  esteem." 

"But  I  do  not  know  enough  of  Lord  Caraven  to 
esteem  him,"  she  replied,  slowly. 

"Some  of  the  happiest  marriages,"  continued  the 
lawyer,  "have  been  when  people  have  learned  to  love 
each  other  after  marriage." 

"Then  love  does  creep  in  before  or  after?"  she  said. 

"Possibly,  in  many  cases.  The  most  sensible  way 
of  looking  at  marriage  is  this.  It  is  a  civil  contract 
between  two  people  who  can  best  make  their  way  in 
the  world  by  going  through  life  together — for  instance, 
a  young  farmer  marries  a  girl  whose  dowry  enables 
him  to  improve  his  farm,  while  her  education  gives 
her  an  interest  in  it;  a  nobleman  with  an  impover- 
ished estate  and  an  ancient  title  marries  a  city  heiress 
whose  grandfather  was,  perhaps,  a  soap-boiler." 

She  was  listening  in  amazement. 

"A  civil  contract!"  she  said,  slowly.  "I  thought 
marriage  was  a  religious  ceremony,  papa?" 

"So  it  is,  certainly — most  decidedly.  I  am  speak- 
ing of  it  from  my  point  of  view." 

"Is  your  point  of  view  the  same  as  other  people's, 
papa?" 

x  "All  sensible  people  have  the  same  ideas  on  the 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


35 


subject/'  he  replied;  and  again  his  daughter's  dark 
eyes  sought  the  lovely,  gleaming  river. 

"I  did  not  think,"  continued  Hildred,  slowly,  "that 
marriage  was  a  contract  of  any  kind.  I  had  a  different 
idea  of  it.  I  thought  it  took  place  when  two  souls 
were  attracted  insensibly  to  each  other,  and  life  became 
nobler  and  better  and  higher  because  of  their  love; 
and  I  thought  that  some  love  began  in  time  and  ended 
in  eternity. " 

Arley  Ransome  looked  in  wonder  at  his  daughter. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  "I  hope  you  are  not  going  to 
turn  out  romantic." 

"I  hope  not,"  she  replied,  quietly.  "You  have  told 
me  the  truth,  papa,  and,  though  it  has  astonished  me, 
I  thank  you  for  it— one  should  not  have  false  notions. 
I  have  asked  because  it  strikes  me  that  it  would  be  a 
terrible  thing  to  marry  without  love,  and  then  for  love 
to  come  afterward." 

The  lawyer  held  up  his  hands  in  horror, 

"Such  a  thing  could  not  be.  Every  woman  with  a 
well  regulated  mind  loves  her  husband;  every  husband 
in  the  same  way  loves  his  wife." 

"Then,  if  I  marry  the  Earl  of  Caraven  now,"  she 
said,  quietly,  "I  shall  learn  to  love  him  afterward?" 

"Certainly,"  he  replied,  with  a  wish  that  she  were 
not  so  earnestly  sincere. 

"I  have  not  thought  of  marrying,"  she  continued, 
in  the  same  earnest,  simple  tone.  "You  see,  papa, 
there  was  nothing  tQ  make  me  think  of  it.  There 
were  no  gentlemen  at  St.  Roche,  and  I  have  been  so 
busy  with  my  books.    I  liked  study.  I  like  it  now.  I 


36 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


like  the  idea,  too,  of  being  a  countess — it  has  a  pleasant 
sound — 'Lady  Caraven.'  And  you  are  quite  sure,  papa, 
that  I  shall  love  my — love  Lord  Caraven  after  mar- 
riage, if  not  before?" 

"I  am  quite  sure,"  he  replied,  with  unnecessary 
fervor. 

Suddenly  she  looked  up  at  him. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  "do  you  remember  the  song  that 
1  sang  to  you  last  night? 

" 'There's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  love's  young  dream.'" 

"I  remember  it,  Hildred.    What  about  it?" 

"Why,  what  does  it  mean — 'nothing  half  so  sweet 
in  life?'  If  I  marry  the  earl,  shall  I  have  no  'love's 
young  dream?'" 

His  eyes  dropped  uneasily  from  hers.  He  knew  he 
was  deceiving  her,  and  she  trusted  so  entirely  in  him. 

"You  ask  me  the  most  extraordinary  questions,"  he 
replied.  "My  dear  Hildred,  do  you  expect  me  to 
extract  common  sense  from  novels  and  poems?  I  can 
tell  you  what  will  be  much  more  useful  to  you  than 
talking  about  love.  As  Countess  of  Caraven  you  will 
be  one  of  the  most  popular  ladies  in  London.  You 
will  have  two  magnificent  homes — Ravensmere  Castle, 
in  Devonshire,  a  fine  old  castle,  and  Holly  House,  in 
town.  You  will  have  diamonds  to  wear.  You  will  go 
to  court.  You  will  rank  among  the  peeresses  of  the 
realm.  You  will  have  wealth,  rank,  fashion,  gayety, 
influence,  all  at  your  command.  You  will  be  able  to 
gratify  every  wish  of  your  heart.    The  whole  world 


FROM  OUT  TKE  GLOOM 


37 


will  flatter  you  and  pay  you  homage.  You  will  have 
all  that  a  woman's  heart  holds  most  dear." 

"Except  love — and  that  is  to  come  afterward,"  she 
said. 

"Certainly.  You  seem  to  think  a  great  deal  of  this 
same   love  too,  Hildred?" 

"Yes;  because  I  know,  papa,  that  is  what  some 
women's  hearts  hold  most  dear." 

"Quite  right.  You  will  find  all  that  kind  of  thing 
comes  quite  right,  my  dear.  Now  what  is  your  an- 
swer, Hildred?  " 

She  looked  round  once  more  in  her  thoughtful 
fashion.  The  faint  light  gleamed  on  the  river.  The 
faint  light  was  dying  in  the  daffodil  sky.  The  western 
wind  stirred  the  green  boughs;  the  song  of  the  birds, 
the  ripples  of  the  river,  the  whisper  of  the  wind,  were 
all  repeating  the  refrain  of  the  song: 

"There's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  love's  young  dream." 

What  was  it  like,  this  dream  that  was  to  come  to 
her — after  marriage,  not  before — this  dream  that  seemed 
to  send  poets  and  novelists  mad,  since  they  wrote  and 
sang  so  much  about  it — this  love  for  which  some  con- 
sidered the  world  well  lost,  and  which  her  clear- 
headed, sensible  father  said  was  all  nonsense?  She 
would  have  liked  to  know  something  of  it.  Love's 
young  dream — what  did  it  do  to  the  dreamers?  Did 
it  make  the  world  any  fairer?  She  wondered  if  there 
were  people  for  whom  the  dream  faded  and  who  mar- 
ried afterward.    She  was  sq  long  silent  that  the  law- 


38 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


yer  became  uneasy;  there  was  no  telling  what  answer 

she  might  give. 

"Your  answer,  Hildred,"  he  said  again. 
She  turned  slowly  to  him. 
"I  will  marry  the  earl,"  she  said,  simply. 
He  looked  delighted. 

"I  shall  see  him  and  tell  him  to-morrow,"  he  said. 
"Now  remember,  Hildred,  this  is  a  very  solemn  mat- 
ter. You  cannot  go  back  after  you  have  once  pledged 
your  word." 

"I  shall  not  want  to  go  back,"  she  said.  "It  is  a 
fair  destiny — why  should  I  wish  to  change  it?  Count- 
ess of  Caraven!  When  shall  I  see  him— the  earl — 
again,  papa?" 

Arley  Ransome  could  not  suppress  a  slight  pang  of 
reproach.  If  she  expected  to  find  a  gallant  wooer  in  the 
spendthrift  earl,  she  would  be  wofully  disappointed. 
It  would  perhaps  be  best  to  prepare  her.  < 

"Very  soon;  and  I  am  quite  sure  that  he  will  be 
pleased.  But,  Hildred,  I  want  to  say  something  else 
to  you.  Common  people  have  common  customs.  When 
Darby  goes  to  woo  Joan,  he  sits  with  his  arm  round 
her  waist.  Men  like" — then  he  grew  confused,  remem- 
bering that  men  are  alike  the  world  over — "men  like 
the  earl  woo  in  a  different  fashion." 

"What  is  their  fashion?"  she  asked  quietly. 

"They  say  little  of  love — they  talk  no  nonjsense — 
they  send  princely  presents  of  diamonds  and  jewels — 
they  prove  their  love  by  actions  more  than  by  words." 

"I  see." 

Then  she  added,  naively; 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


39 


"Do  you  know,  papa,  I  think  I  should  like  what 
you  call  the  Darby-and-Joan  fashion  best." 

Her  simplicity  appalled  him,  remembering  what  the 
earl  had  said — that  he  would  do  his  best  to  make  her 
happy,  but  that  he  should  never  like  her.  Arley  Ran- 
some  began  to  wonder  how  it  would  end. 

"Are  there  no  Darbies  and  Joans  in  high  life,  papa?41 
she  asked. 

"My  dear  Hildred,  high  rank  has  great  responsibil- 
ities. Men  like  Lord  Caraven  have  something  more 
to  think  of  than  love — that  is  very  well  for  school-girls 
and  beardless  cornets.  Try  to  forget  it,  and  think  of 
the  brilliant  future  that  awaits  you  as  Lady  Caraven. 
You  will  be  a  beautiful  woman,  Hildred,  and  I  shall 
see  my  hopes  realized  in  you.  Then  I  may  tell  the 
earl  it  is  all  settled?" 

"Will  he  not  say  anything  to  me  himself?"  she 
asked. 

Now  that  she  had  promised  to  marry  him,  she  began 
to  recall  his  face. 

It  was  very  handsome — indolently  handsome;  she 
thought  it  would  be  pleasant  to  see  those  blue  eyes  of 
his  warm  and  brighten,  to  see  the  handsome  face  grow 
earnest  and  eloquent;  beside,  she  would  like  to  hear 
what  he  had  to  say.  Her  heart  beat  faster  as  she 
thought  of  it.  Of  course  he  would  not  *call  her 
"Honored  Miss,"  and  kneel  down,  as  the  heroes  in 
old-fashioned  stories  did;  but  he  would  talk  to  her — 
he  would  tell  her  why  from  the  whole  world  of  women 
he  had  chosen  her.  Sweet  words  would  have  a  pleas- 
ant sound  coming  from  him. 


4-0  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

"He  will  speak  to  me  himself?"  she  repeated,  plaint 

ively. 

"Of  course — later  on — not  just  now,  perhaps;  he  is 
not  a  bold  wooer,  your  handsome  earl,  Hildred.  You 
are  sure  to  think  him  reserved  and  cold;  in  time  all 
that  will  wear  away.  I  may  tell  him  to-morrow  that 
you  accept  his  offer?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

And  then  to  her  surprise,  her  father,  who  was  one 
of  the  most  undemonstrative  of  men,  bent  down  and 
kissed  her. 

"You  have  made  me  very  happy,"  he  said. 

"Why,  papa,  one  would  think  you  wanted  this  mar- 
riage! "  she  cried.  "You  seem  very  anxious   about  it." 

"It  is  my  hope  realized,  Hildred,"  he  said,  gravely. 
"I  am  very  happy." 

Then  he  rose  and  left  her  seated  by  the  river-side. 

"Lady  Caraven— Hildred,  Lady  Caraven!" 

She  repeated  the  words  to  herself;  they  had  a  pleas- 
ant sound,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  think  that  she 
would  be  a  countess — pleasant  to  remember  that  the 
handsome  young  earl  had  sought  her  in  marriage. 
How  little  she  had  dreamed  of  this  when  she  sat  down 
by  the  river-side  an  hour  before! 

He  would  come  to  see  her  on  the  morrow,  there 
was  no  doubt.  What  would  it  be  like — this  brilliant 
Jfe  in  which  gayety,  fashion,  love,  and  happiness 
were  all  to  have  their  part?  The  light  had  died  in  the 
western  skies,  the  birds  had  sung  their  last  song,  the 
flowers  were  all  asleep,  but  it  seemed  to  Hildred  Ran- 
some  that  she  would  never  sleep   again;  the  restless, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


41 


beatiiig  heart  was  stirred  for  the  first  time  from  its 
passionless  rest.  It  was  fancy,  of  course — all  fancy 
— but  the  long,  low  wash  of  the  waves  certainly  sang 
"Love's  Young  Dream."  It  must  be  fancy,  but  the 
wind  did  whisper  it: 

"There's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life." 

"I  will  go  in,"  thought  Hildred,  "and  sing  some- 
thing that  will  take  the  sound  of  those  words  from 
me." 

It  so  happened  that  the  first  sheet  of  music  she 
took  up  was  Mrs.  Jameson's  pathetic  ballad,  set  to 
sweet,  sad  music: 

"I  have  had  joy  and  sorrow,  I  have  proved 
What  life  could  give — have  loved  and  been  beloved; 
I  am  sick  and  heartsore 

And  weary — let  me  sleep; 
But  deep — deep — 
Never  to  waken  more!" 

The  words  struck  her  with  new  meaning.  "Have 
loved  and  been  beloved;"  it  was  like  Thekla's  song: 

"I  have  tasted  the  highest  bliss; 
I  have  loved  and  have  been  beloved. 

This  was  not  in  accordance  with  her  father's  assur- 
ance that  love  was  all  nonsense. 

But  she  had  forgotten  that  these  were  poets  writing 
according  to  their  lights — only  poets,  and  not  to  be 
believed.  It  was  perhaps  a  pity  after  all,  she  thought, 
that  they — these  sweet  singers — should  teach  people 
to.  estimate  things  so  falsely — should  try  to  place  love 
above  everything  else — above  wealth,  fame,  rank, 
title,    gold — when    her  father,  a  shrewd,  clever  man, 


42 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


assured  her  that  it  was  but  nonsense — that  people  were 
.better  and  happier  without  it. 

She  felt  very  wise,  very  superior  to  these  poets. 
Life  had  higher  things  than  love,  she  said  to  herself. 
It  was  very  well  in  its  way.  She,  for  one,  was  quite 
content  not  to  know  it.  Life  held  duties — noble  duties, 
noble  work.  What  was  love  but  recreation?  It  was 
ver}'  well  for  school-girls  to  talk  of  in  whispers,  or  for 
poets  to  write  sweet,  sad  rhymes  about;  but  for  men 
and  women —  Her  father,  perhaps,  was  right — it  was 
better  to  be  without  it. 

When  this  lover  of  hers  came  on  the  morrow,  would 
he  mention  love  to  her,  or  what  would  he  talk  about? 
She  sighed  as  she  rose  from  the  piano,  flattering  her- 
self that  she  had  sung  all  sentiment  away — sighed 
with  a  sweet,  half-sad  longing. 

And  then,  after  all  her  trouble — after  singing  to 
drive  the  words  away — after  moralizing,  and  trying  to 
make  herself  a  stoical  philosopher  at  eighteen — she 
found  herself,  as  she  went  to  her  room,  singing: 

"Oh,  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  love's  young  dream!" 


CHAPTER  IV 


"are  you  asking  me  to  decide  as  to  my  wedding-day" 

Hildred  Ransome  was  engaged  to  be  married,  she 
was  to  be  Lady  Caraven,  and  on  this  day  her  lover 
was  to  visit  her. 

Arley  Ransome  went  off  to  business  early.  The 
first  thing  he  did  was  to  send  a  note  to  the  earl,  say- 
ing that  all  difficulty  was  removed;  his  daughter  had 
consented.  The  only  thing  remaining  was  for  him  to 
ask  her  to  settle  the  wedding-day. 

Lord  Caraven  read  it  through,  then  crushed  it  in 
his  hands,  and  finally  tore  it  into  shreds  and  threw  it 
under  his  feet.  He  had  not  brought  himself  to  a  prop- 
er state  of  submission  yet.  He  would  have  given 
the  whole  world  to  escape  from  Arley  Ransome;  but 
the  choice  was  plain  enough — ruin,  shame,  and  de- 
spair, or  marriage  with  the  dark-eyed  girl  who  was 
"not  his  style,"  and  whom  he  was  quite  sure  he  should 
never  like. 

Then  his  thoughts  veered  round  a  little.  It  would 
be  pleasant  to  restore  Ravensmere  Castle  to  its  old 
prestige — it  would  be  pleasant  to  pay  his  debts,  to 
feel  the  load  of  care  and  anxiety  removed  from  him — 
it  would  be  pleasant  to  take  his  place  in  the  world 
again.  As  for  the  price,  he  must  pay  it.  If  Arley 
Ransome  would  not  save  him  upon  any  other  condi- 

4? 


44 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


tions,  he  must  marry  his  daughter.  If  the  father  was 
content  to  give  his  child  to  one  who  honestly  owned 
he  did  not  like  her,  surely  he  need  not  pity  her. 
Surely,  again,  if  she  were  willing  to  marry  a  man 
whom  she  had  seen  only  once,  she  herself  deserved  no 
pity. 

The  marriage  should  take  place  in  due  course.  The 
Ransomes  had,  as  it  were,  drawn  him — nay,  forced 
him  into  it;  the  consequences  must  recoil  on  them- 
selves. In  his  own  mind  he  considered  the  daughter 
quite  as  bad  as  the  father — indeed  he  made  little  dis- 
tinction between  them.  The  union  was  to  be;  there 
was  no  further  need  for  scruple.  They  wanted  his 
title;  he  wanted  their  money.  He  would  be  civil  to 
them;  they  could  not  expect  more. 

On  that  evening  Hildred  Ransome  received  a  letter 
and  a  ring.  The  envelope  bore  a  crest,  and  she  knew 
at  once  that  it  was  from  Lord  Caraven.  The  contents 
were  short,  but  to  the  purpose;  it  was  not  a  love-let- 
ter, for  there  was  no  semblance  of  love  in  it. 

"My  dear  Miss  Ransome —  I  have  to  thank  you 
for  your  consent  to  my" — then  came  a  word  that  had 
been  carefully  obliterated  and  "wishes"  written  over 
it — "With  your  permission  I  will  call  to-morrow.  I 
have  sent  you  an  engagement  ring — will  you  wear  it? 
I  am  yours" — here  there  was  an  illegible  word. 

"Ulric  Caraven." 

She  laid  the  letter  down  with  a  sigh  and  a  smile. 
She  had  fancied  that  a  love-letter  would  be  very  dif- 
ferent. She  opened  the  little  parcel  that  accompanied 
the  note;  it  contained  a  magnificent  diamond  ring — 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


45 


her  engagement  ring.  She  placed  it  on  her  finger,  and 
the  sun  falling  on  it  made  it  shine  like  fire.  Still,  as 
she  looked  at  it,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  would 
have  liked  someone  to  put  «the  ring  on  her  finger; 
although  she  was  engaged  to  be  married,  and  was  to 
be  a  countess,  she  felt  very  lonely  and  desolate. 

Arley  Ransome  smiled  when  he  saw  the  ring.  At 
least  it  was  an  earnest  of  good  things  to  come. 

"Very  nice,  very  appropriate,"  said  the  lawyer — 
"really  a  ring  suitable  for  the  coming  Lady  Caraven." 

The  day  after  brought  Lord  Caraven  himself. 

That  interview  was  something  to  be  remembered. 
Mr.  Ransome,  hoping  to  make  matters  smooth  and 
pleasant,  had  invited  his  future  son-in-law  to  dine 
with  him,  and  that  he  might  not  feel  dull  had  asked 
the  humorous  and  brilliant  talker,  Mr.  Carwey,  to  join 
them. 

It  was  well  that  he  had  done  so,  for  the  actual  pres- 
ence of  her  lover  seemed  to  strike  Hildred  dumb. 
She  looked  at  him  whenever  she  found  that  he  was 
looking  elsewhere.  She  thought  him  very  handsome. 
His  indolent,  careless  grace  contrasted  so  favorably 
with  her  father's  sharp,  brisk  manner.  She  wondered 
why  the  earl  looked  worn  and  haggard.  He  was  only 
twenty-seven,  her  father  said.  She  wondered,  too,  why  « 
he  was  not  more  empresse  in  his  manner.  He  took  her 
down  to  dinner,  and  the  only  words  they  exchanged 
were  about  the  warmth  of  the  day.  During  dinner 
they  never  spoke,  save  for  the  most  ordinary  civilities. 
When  dinner  was  over,  the  earl  evidently  preferred  the 
society  of  Mr.  Carwey  to  hers. 


46 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Why  had  he  asked  to  marry  her  if  he  did  not  care 
to  talk  to  her?"  she  said  to  herself.  "How  strange  it 
was!"  Then  her  father  invited  Mr.  Carwe}r  to  have  a 
game  at  chess,  and  the^  earl  walked  slowly  across  the 
room  to  where  she  was  sitting.  He  stood  by  her  side, 
tall,  stately,  despite  his  indolent  grace  of  manner.  Her 
heart  beat.  What  was  he  going  to  say?  He  bent  his 
head  somewhat  stiffly. 

"I  have  to  thank  you,  Miss  Ransome,"  he  said,  "for 
honoring  me  by  wearing  my  ring." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  and  there  was  something  in 
the  calm  gaze  of  the  pure  eyes  before  which  he  shrank 
as  her  father  had  done. 

"You  wished  me  to  wear  it,  did  you  not?"  she  asked. 
"My  father  thought  so." 

'Certainly.    I  am  delighted." 

Try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  conceal  a  touch  of 
irony.  She  detected  it,  and  looked  at  him  again. 
He  bowed  and  continued: 

"I  am  fortunate,  indeed.  I  have  to  ask  you,  Miss 
Ransome,  now  that  you  have  consented  to — to  be- 
come Lady  Caraven,  to  tell  me  when — that  is  to  say 
— what  day  will  suit  you." 

"Day  for  what?"  she  asked,  innocently. 

"A  day  to  be  married  on,"  he  replied. 

A  look  of  rebuke  stole  over  the  girlish  face. 

"You  spoke  of  it  so  lightly,"  she  said,  "that  I 
fancied  you  meant  a  day  for  going  out  somewhere. 
You  spoke  as  if  you  were  asking  me  to  arrange  a  day 
for  boating  on  the  river." 

"What  shall  I  say,  then?"  he  asked,  smiling  despite 
his  annoyance. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


47 


"It  is  not  for  me  to  tell  you,"  she  replied,  in  all  sim- 
plicity. 

He  laughed  aloud. 

"Shall  I  say,  'Loveliest,  fairest?'" 

With  an  air  of  grave  displeasure  she  rose  from  her 
seat. 

"Lord  Caraven,  I  will  hear  no  more,"  she  said,  "your 
manner  does  not  please  me." 

He  longed  to  retort,  "Nor  do  you  please  me;  "  but 
he  was  merely  a  fly  in  the  spider's  web — he  could  not 
escape.  He  followed  her.  After  all,  he  was  a  gentle^ 
man,  and  she  was  to  bear  his  name. 

"I  am  unfortunate-  Miss  Ransome,"  he  said,  "in 
having  displeased  you — pardon  me.  I  had  every  inten- 
tion of  asking  you  the  question  with  all  due  decorum 
— pray  permit  me  to  repeat  it." 

She  was  still  so  much  of  a  child  that  she  was  puz- 
zled what  to  answer.  Her  manner  rather  puzzled  him, 
too — it  was  so  calm,  so  self-possessed.  There  was 
not  the  faintest  flush  on  her  face,  no  light  in  the 
grave,  beautiful  eyes,  no  latent  smile — there  were  no 
little  airs  and  graces  such  as  surely  belong  to  a  young 
countess-elect. 

"Do  I  understand  you  rightly?"  said  the  grave, 
sweet,  girlish  voice.  "Are  you  asking  me  to  decide 
as  to  my  wedding-day?" 

"I  am,  indeed,  so  brave,    he  replied. 

"Then  I  must  decline  to  do  so — my  father  will  know 
best  what  time  will  suit  him." 

"I  understood  from  Mr.  Ransome  that  six  weeks 
from  now  would  be  convenient, "  said  the  earl. 


48 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Her  face  did  not  change — no  flush  or  pallor  told 
that  the  words  had  affected  her. 

"Six  weeks,"  she  said,  musingly;  "I  shall  be  eight- 
een in  four  weeks  from  to-day." 

"I  wish,"  he  remarked,  "that  I  could  be  eighteen 
over  again." 

"Would  you  be  the  better  for  it?"  she  asked,  curi- 

ousl}r. 

"I  should  at  least  be  wiser,"  he  answered;  and  she 
made  no  comment. 

"You  will  speak,  then,  to  Mr.  Ransome? "  he  contin- 
ued, after  moodily  reflecting  upon  all  he  had  lost. 

"I  speak  to  my  father,"  exclaimed  Hildred.  "No. 
I  am  ignorant  enough  of  the  world,  but  surely  that 
should  be  done  by  you." 

She  went  away  then  under  the  pretext  of  seeking 
something,  leaving  Lord  Caraven  alone. 

"She  has  a  little  more  spirit  than  I  thought  she 
had,"  he  said  to  himself. 

Then,  when  he  had  the  opportunity,  he  told  Arley 
Ransome  that  he  had  been  unfortunate  in  his  interview 
with  his  daughter.  Mr.  Ransome  quickly  made  every- 
thing smooth — the  wedding-day  was  to  be  on  the 
third  of  August. 

"Something  may  happen  before  then,"  the  earl 
thought;  "if  not,  I  have  always  one  resource,  always 
one  haven.  Much  may  happen  before  the  third  of 
August. " 

While  Hildred  Ransome  said  to  herself  that,  if  she 
liked  her  future  husband  no  better  in  six  weeks'  time 
than  she  did  now,  it  would  be  but  a  sorry  wedding* 
day. 


CHAPTER  V 


''you  will  be  one  of  the  happiest  women  in  the 
world" 

Hildred  Ransome  did  not  feel  particularly  pleased 
when  she  came  to  think  about  her  interview  with  Lord 
Caraven.  True,  she  had  not  expected  anything,  and 
therefore  she  had  no  right  to  resent  the  total  want  of 
interest  and  affection.  The  thought  of  refusing  him 
or  rebelling  in  any  way  against  her  fate  had  not  yet 
occurred  to  her.  She  had  been  so  completely  drilled 
into  obedience  and  accustomed  to  obey  those  in  com- 
mand over  her,  so  used  to  accepting  directions  with- 
out inquiring  as  to  their  merits,  that  she  never  dreamed 
of  refusing  her  consent  to  the  marriage.  Asked  it 
had  been,  she  knew,  but  it  was  a  matter  of  form; 
there  was  no  real  honesty  in  the  asking.  She  knew 
her  father's  will  to  be  of  iron,  and  she  could  not 
resist  it.  Her  lot  in  life  was  settled.  She  was  to 
marry  the  Earl  of  Caraven. 

She  told  herself  over  and  over  again  that  she  need 
feel  no  surprise  at  his  strange  wooing.  His  ways 
were  not  as  her  ways.  Her  father  had  told  her  that 
she  must  not  expect  such  wooing  as  Darby  and  Joan 
indulged  in,  and  that  love  was  to  come  afterward — 
after  marriage  instead  of  before  it. 

"Rank  has  its  privileges — it  also  has  its  penalties/ 

49 


FROM  OtJT  TfctE  <Jl06ST 


said  Arley  Ransome,  often  enough  for  his  daughter 
to  remember  the  words.    One  of  these  penalties  was 

undemonstrativeness  as  regarded  love. 

She  was  to  be  married  on  the  third  of  August. 
There  was  not  much  time  to  spend  in  preparations. 
Her  father  had  said  no  expense  was  to  be  spared.  He 
took  her  himself  to  the  court  milliner  and  left  the 
trousseau  entirely  in  that  lady's  hands.  Hildred  was 
frightened  as  order  after  order  was  given  without  the 
least  thought  of  expense. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  as  they  drove  home,  "do  you  know 
that  what  you  have  ordered  will  cost  hundreds  of 
pounds?" 

Arley  Ransome  laughed  and  rubbed  his  hands. 
"I  should  not  care  if  it  cost  thousands,  Hildred," 
he  replied. 

"I  did  not  know  you  had  so  much  money,"  she 
said,  slowly;  and  again  the  lawyer  laughed — laughed 
as  he  remembered  how  wealthy  he  was,  and  how  little 
his  daughter  guessed  that  it  was  for  that  very  wealth 
she  was  to  be  married. 

She  was  young  enough — only  eighteen — to  enjoy  the 
magnificent  trousseau  as  box  after  box  came  home,  to 
linger  with  admiring  eyes  over  the  beautiful  dresses 
—the  rich  silks,  the  costly  laces,  the  fine  velvets — 
before  the  thousand  and  one  elegancies  provided  for 
her.  It  seemed  wonderful  to  her  that  she  should  pos- 
sess all  these.  She  had  never  thought  of  her  father 
as  a  rich  man.  He  was  a  lawyer,  she  knew — she  knew 
also  that  he  had  something  to  do  with  finance;  but 
that  he  was  wealthy  enough  to  spend  all  that  he  hai 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


spent  on  her  she  had  never  guessed.  She  was  young 
enough  and  woman  enough  to  feel  a  keen  delight  in 
the  magnificent  trousseau,  to  feel  a  keen  pleasure  in 
the  idea  that  she  was  to  be  a  countess,  wife  of  the 
handsome  young  earl. 

One  day,  Arley  Ransome  showed  her  a  paragraph  in 
the  Fashionable  Chronicle,  It  stated  that  a  marriage 
was  on  the  tapis  between  the  Right  Honorable,  the 
Earl  of  Caraven,  and  Miss  Ransome,  the  only  daughter 
and  heiress  of  Arley  Ransome,  Esq.  The  girl  laughed 
as  she  read  it — a  sweet,  happy  laugh. 

"Heiress!  I  wonder  what  that  means,  papa?  Why 
do  they  call  me  heiress?" 

"I  should  imagine  that  they  think  I  have  made  a 
little  money  and  that  it  will  all  come  to  you,"  he 
replied. 

Since  he  had  made  closer  study  of  his  daughter's 
character,  he  had  thought  it  well  to  keep  her  in  igno- 
rance of  the  fact  that  she  was  a  wealthy  heiress;  other- 
wise it  might  occur  to  her  why  she  was  about  to  be 
married. 

"How  do  the  newspaper  people  know?"  she  asked 
again,  after  thinking  for  a  few  minutes. 

"I  should  imagine  that  the  earl  himself  has  wished 
the  intelligence  to  be  known,"  he  replied,  and  again 
Arley  Ransome  smiled  as  he  fancied  how  many  anx- 
ious creditors  would  be  consoled  by  reading  the  news. 

The  earl  was  attentive.  He  seldom  went  to  the 
Hollies;  but  he  sent  tickets  for  the  opera,  for  the 
theaters — he  sent  bouquets  of  flowers,  books,  and, 
above  all,  jewels.    Arley  Ransome  said  and  thought 


52 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


that  flowers  were  very  well  in  their  way,  but  that 
jewels  meant  more.  The  earl  appeared  but  rarely 
himself.  When  he  did  go  it  was  to  dine,  and  Mr. 
Ransome  was  careful  always  to  find  another  guest  on 
whom  the  burden  of  conversation  should  fall,  so  that 
the  visits  were  not  very  dull  ones. 

One  morning  a  parcel  reached  the  Hollies  from  Lord 
Caraven,  and  when  Hildred  unfastened  it,  it  was 
found  to  contain  a  suite  of  jewels — pure,  pale  pearls. 

Mr.  Ransome  cried  out  in  admiration  that  they  were 
the  most  beautiful  he  had  ever  seen.  Hildred  sighed 
as  she  laid  them  down  in  the  soft  velvet  cases. 

"Sighing,  with  such  a  gift  as  that  in  your  hands, 
Hildred?"  he  said. 

"Papa,  I  cannot  help  wishing,"  she  replied,  "that 
Lord  Caraven  would  give  me  fewer  jewels,  but  come 
oftener  to  see  rne.  I  am  to  be  married  in  ten  days 
from  now,  and,  do  you  know,  he  seems  like  a  stranger 
to  me." 

The  words  touched  him  a  little.  He  had  not  much 
heart,  this  ambitious  man;  he  would  have  sacrificed 
everything  he  had  for  his  own  social  advancement;  he 
loved  his  daughter  after  his  own  fashion — she  was  a 
stepping-stone. to  gratify  his  ambition — but  he  would 
have  broken  her  heart  over  and  over  again  to  accom- 
plish his  wishes.  Still  the  words  touched  him,  and  on 
the  day  following,  when  he  met  Lord  Caraven  for' the 
signing  of  business  papers,  he  said  to  him: 

"My  daughter  would  be  pleased  to  see  you.  She 
thinks  it  strange  that  you  do  not  call  oftener." 

They  were  mild  words,  but  the  earl  knew  he  was 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


53 


under  the  harrow — he  must  go.  He  went  the  next 
day  and  found  Hildred  at  home  and  alone.  He  hesi- 
tated when  he  heard  that  she  was  alone;  he  had  not 
wished  for  a  tete-a-tete.  What  was  he  to  say  to  her? 
He  could  not  feign  love-making;  he  did  not  like  her. 
He  had  always  admired  fair  women  with  golden  hair; 
this  girl  had  hair  as  dark  as  night  and  a  Spanish  face. 
He  was  compelled  to  marry  her,  but  he  had  not  an 
idea  as  to  what  he  should  say  to  her. 

He  was  shown  into  the  pretty  drawing-room  where 
Hildred  was  reading  Goethe.  She  looked  up  when  he 
was  announced,  and  placed  her  book  on  the  table. 
She  bowed  coldly,  not  knowing  what  to  say.  She  had 
wished  him  to  call,  but  she  felt,  now  that  he  was  really 
there,  uncertain  how  to  entertain  him.  Had  he  been 
an  ordinary  friend  of  her  father's,  she  would  have 
sought  for  and  found  some  topic  of  conversation  that 
interested  him.  She  looked  into  the  earl's  handsome 
face,  and,  remembering  that  in  ten  days  she  was  to 
become  his  wife,  she  was  silent.  Looking  at  her,  he 
remembered  the  same,  and  turned  away  with  a  sigh  of 
despair. 

"How  dark  her  hair  and  eyes  are!"  he  thought  to 
himself.  "If  I  purchase  a  picture  I  can  surely  please 
myself  about  its  coloring;  in  taking  a  wife  I  have  not 
even  that  option." 

"I  have  not  interrupted  you  I  hope,  Miss  Ransome?" 
he  said.    "You  were  reading — may  I  ask  what?" 

She  held  the  book  out  for  him  to  see. 

"German!"  he  cried.    "Do  you  read  Germai?" 

MYes  and  speak  it.    I  like  it,"  she  replied;  '  T  Hka 


54 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


German  literature,  after  English,  better  than  any.H 

"Better  than  French?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  much  better/1  she  replied— "English  first, 
German  next." 

"I  thought  all  ladies  preferred  French  to  German," 
he  said,  "because  it  is  lighter  and  more  graceful." 

"Do  all  ladies  prefer  the  light  and  graceful?"  she 
asked. 

"Do  they  not,  Miss  Ransome?"  he  replied. 

"Nay,"  said  Hildred,  'it  seems  to  me  that  we  asked 
each  other  questions  without  waiting  for  the  replies." 

"I  have  never  learned  German,"  he  said,  absently. 

"Then  you  will  never  make  an  embassador  or  a  di- 
plomatist," she  remarked  quietly;  "they  require  to  know 
many  languages." 

He  looked  at  her,  wondering  at  her  words. 

"I  have  no  particular  wish  to  be  either,"  he  said. 

"Have  you  not?  I  wonder  at  that.  If  I  had  been 
a  man  of  position,  I  should  have  liked  to  be  an 
embassador.  I  like  any  occupation,  any  employment 
that  exercises  one's  brains,  and  I  always  imagine 
diplomatists  to  be  accomplished  men." 

"And  you  admire  accomplished  men,  Miss  Ran- 
some? I  think  you  must  admit  one  thing — diplomatists 
are  seldom  sincere  or  truthful  men." 

"Insincerity  and  untruth  are  not  confined  to  them," 
she  replied;  and  Lord  Caraven  began  to  think  that 
perhaps  she  was  fond  of  argument. 

He  talked  to  her  about  Goethe,  but  not  with  her 
enthusiasm — he  could  not  even  understand  it.  He 
was  tairly  startled  at  last,  when,  raising  her  dark, 
Jbvely  eyes  tp  his  fece,  she  said: 


PROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


55 


"You  give  me  the  impression  of  having  been  asleep 
the  greater  part  of  your  life." 

He  was  startled,  but  he  answered:  "On  the  con- 
trary, I  have  been  remarkably  wide  awake — I  am  past 
the  age  of  enthusiasm." 

"It  is  better  to  die  at  once  than  to  outlive  enthusi- 
asm," she  said,  calmly.    "I  call  it  the  salt  of  life." 

He  remained  talking  to  her  for  half  an  hour.  They 
were  to  be  married  in  ten  days,  yet  he  said  no  word 
of  love.  He  did  not  mention  their  marriage  or  even 
allude  to  it  ever  so  distantly.  He  might  have  been 
the  merest  stranger,  the  most  unconcerned  of  guests. 
He  took  his  leave,  and  even  then  he  did  not  offer  to 
touch  the  hand  that  she  half  held  out  to  him. 

It  was  very  strange.  When  he  was  gone  she  took 
up  her  book,  but  she  could  not  read.  This  man  who 
had  been  talking  to  her  with  such  indifference,  who 
had  spent  one  solitary  half  hour  with  her,  and  had 
evidently  felt  it  to  be  a  dull  one — this  man  who  had 
not  paid  her  the  least  compliment,  who  had  not  even 
touched  her  hand — was  in  ten  days'  time  to  be  her 
husband,  the  arbiter  of  her  destiny,  the  master  of  her 
life. 

How  strange  it  was!  He  had  asked  her  to  marry 
him,  yet  he  did  not  mention  the  word  "love."  Did 
he  love  her?  Was  this  nonchalant,  indifferent  style 
of  wooing  fashionable?  Would  he  ever  talk  of  love 
to  her  at  all?  Why  were  her  thoughts  always  running 
on  that  one  word  "love?" 

She  was  restless,  anxiou  .  not  unhappy,  but  puzzled. 
In  ten  days'  time  she  would  be  a  wife — she  would 


56  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

enter  the  realm  that  poets  call  fairyland.  Oh,  if  this 
were  all,  love  was  a  cheat,  a  delusion,  a  snare — there 
was  nothing  in  it!  It  was  supposed  to  confer  such 
unbounded  happiness,  and  she  was  not  happier — not 
even  so  happy  as  when  she  studied  German  at  St. 
Roche. 

"But,"  she  mused,  "I  am  forgetting;  I  always  forget. 
The  love  in  my  case  is  to  come  after  marriage,  not 
before." 

She  liked  Lord  Caraven's  face;  to  her  girlish  fancy 
it  was  even  beautiful.  She  wished  to  see  it  brighten. 
It  seemed  to  her  like  a  veiled  picture.  Then,  half 
shyly,  she  wondered  if  he  liked  hers;  though,  to  be 
sure,  he  must  have  liked  it,  she  thought,  or  he  would 
not  have  wished  to  marry  her. 

She  went  quietly  to  the  glass  and  looked  at  her 
face.  There  was  a  promise  of  magnificent  beauty  in  it, 
but  the  promise  was  not  yet  fulfilled.  Nothing  could 
have  been  lovelier  than  the  dark,  starry  eyes  and  the 
dark,  waving  hair;  but  the  face  was  one  which  lingered 
where  womanhood  and  childhood  meet.  Hildred  felt  no 
great  elation  as  she  looked  upon  it. 

"I  shall  not  be  a  beautiful  countess  after  all,'1  she 
said;  "and  beauty,  they  say,  keeps  the  heart  that  love 
wins." 

A  book  was  lying  on  the  drawing-room  table — one 
among  many  others  that  Arley  Ransome  had  sent  home. 
She  opened  it  mechanically.  The  first  line  she  read 
struck  her.  It  was  only  a  simple  poem,  written  by  a 
great  master  of  ^oesy,  but  to  her  it  seemed  instinct 
with  sorrow  and  love: 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


57 


"Then  I  took  a  pencil  and  wrote 
On  the  mossy  stone  as  I  lay — 
'Here  lies  the  body  of  Ellen  Adair, 
And  the  heart  of  Edward  Gray/" 

Over  and  over  again  she  read  the  words,  so  sweet 
and  simple  and  sad.  Of  course  they  were  lovers  and 
they  had  quarreled;  his  heart  lay  buried  with  her. 
That  was  love. 

After  all,  there  was  some  strange,  sweet,  mad  witch- 
ery in  this  love.  She  was  going  to  be  a  countess; 
she  was  to  have  jewels  and  money,  pleasure  and  fame; 
yet  a  conviction  came  upon  her  that  it  would  have  been 
better  to  be  Ellen  Ad^ir,  to  sleep  in  a  grave  on  the 
windy  hill  and  be  so  dearly  loved,  than  to  be  a  count- 
ess. Who  cared  for  her  as  this  lover  Edward  Gray 
cared  for  his  dead  love? 

"If  I  died  to-morrow,"  she  cried,  with  sudden  pas- 
sion, "who  would  grieve  except  my  father,  whose  heart 
would  be  buried  in  my  grave?  Not  Lord  Caraven.  If 
he  heard  i  was  dead,  he  would  look  up  calmly  and 
say,  'Dead,  is  she?  I  thought  her  a  strange  kind  of 
girl. '  Then  his  life  would  go  on  as  though  I  had 
never  been.  I  should  like — ah,  me!  I  hope  it  is  not 
wicked — but  I  should  have  liked  someone  to  love  me 
like  the  lover  in  the  song!  Perhaps  love  will  come, 
but  I  should  like  it  best  now." 

"Papa,"  she  said  that  evening,  as  she  stood  watch- 
ing the  sunset,  "we  have  but  one  life — that  seems  to 
me  a  sad  pity.  If  we  could  live  once  to  gain  experi- 
ence, and  live  again  to  use  it — I  should  like  that." 

"My  dear  Hildred,"  said  the  man  of  law,  "it  is 
simply  incomprehensible  to  me  how  I   came  to  have 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


such  an  imaginative  daughter.  If  I  had  cultivated  my 
imagination,  I  do  not  know  where  we  should  be  now. 
What  were  you  going  to  say?" 

She  was  standing  watching  the  sunset;  the  great 
boughs  of  the  cedar  drooped  near  her;  her  young  face, 
raised  with  its  dreamy,  wondering  expression  to  the 
skies,  might  have  touched  a  harder  heart  than  his. 

"We  have  but  one  life,"  she  said,  "and  if  it  be  all 
spoiled  there  is  no  remedy.  Papa,"  she  cried,  with 
sudden  passion,  "do  not  let  me  spoil  mine— do  not 
deceive  me — do  not  let  me  marry  without  love,  if  love 
be  needful  for  happiness.  I  should  like  to  be  loved, 
papa.  Listen  to  me — I  do  not  really  care  to  be  a 
countess — I  could  be  happy  without  that — I  could  be 
happy  without  much  money  or  without  jewels,  but  I 
begin  to  fear  that  I  shall  never  be  really  happy  with- 
out love.  I  think  women  value  love  more  than  men. 
Do  you  think  I  can  be  happy  without  it?" 

He  never  forgot  the  pleading  expression  of  her  face. 
It  touched  him  so  that  he  half  hesitated  as  to  whether 
he  should  sacrifice  her  to  his  ambition  or  save  her— 
save  her,  and  let  her  live  her  womanly  life  of  love. 
But  the  hesitation  passed  as  quickly  as  it  came.  What: 
did  it  matter?  Love  marriages,  as  they  were  called, 
often  ended  in  disgust. 

She  went  close  up  to  him  and  laid  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder;  her  dark,  bright  eyes  seemed  to  look  through 
his  into  the  very  depths  of  his  soul. 

"Now,  papa,"  she  said,  "we  are  quite  alone  here, 
you  and  I — only  the  silent  stars  are  our  witnesses — now 
tell  me,  in  the  presence  of  heaven,  can  I  be  happy 
without  love?" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


59 


He  was  silent  for  one  minute.  It  was  hard  to 
deceive  her,  but  there  was  no  help  for  it.  He  took 
her  hand  in  his. 

"I  prophesy  for  you,  Hildred,"  he  said,  "that  you 
will  be  one  of  the  happiest  women  in  the  world." 

"Then  I  am  content.  You  would  not  deceive  me," 
she  replied.  _ 

And,  turning  away  from  him,  she  re  entered  the 
house. 

It  must  be  right;  her  father  would  not  deceive  her 
— would  not  let  her  do  that  which  would  wreck  her 
whole  life.  It  was  she  herself  who  had  been  mis- 
taken— she  who  had  dreamed  that  life  had  more  of 
sweetness  and  of  poesy  than  it  really  possessed. 

*  *  #  *  * 

The  ten  days  had  come  to  an  end.  How  time  had 
passed  so  quickly  Hildred  Ransome  could  not  tell. 
The  preparations  for  her  marriage  were  complete. 
There  was  a  slight  dispute  between  the  earl  and  the 
lawyer.  Lord  Caraven  wished  to  have  the  ceremony 
performed  quietly  and  away  from  London — Arley  Ran- 
some insisted  that  the  marriage  should  take  place  at 
St.  George's,  Hanover  Square. 

"And  so,  my  lord,"  he  said,  "let  us  distinctly  un- 
derstand each  other.  My  daughter  is  bringing  you  a 
fortune  that  might  be  the  dower  of  a  princess,  and 
she  must  be  treated  with  due  respect.  I  will  not  have 
one  detail  omitted.  The  marriage  must  be  conducted 
as  though  you  were  espousing  a  lady  of  your  own 
rank." 


6o 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Lord  Caraven  laughed;  he  knew  that  there  was  no 
opposing  such  a  decree — it  must  be  complied  with. 
He  made  the  best  of  it.  He  invited  his  half-cousin, 
the  Lady  Frances  Riche,  a  superannuated  coquette, 
who  still  believed  herself  young  and  charming,  to  be 
bridesmaid.  Lord  St.  Maure  was  "best  man."  A 
small  but  select  party  of  guests  were  invited.  Noth- 
ing was  omitted. 

For  many  days  past  the  great  world  had  been  on  the 
qui  vive  about  the  marriage.  The  wedding-dress  had 
been  shown  at  the  court  milliner's,  the  jewels  could 
be  seen  at  Messrs.  Burford's.  All  fashionable  Lon- 
don discussed  the  union,  and  all  fashionable  London  „ 
knew  what  the  girl  herself  did  not  know — that  she 
was  being  married  for  her  money,  that  her  marriage 
was  as  much  a  matter  of  sale  and  barter  as  though 
she  had  stood  in  a  slave  market  with  an  auctioneer  by 
her  side. 

Yet  no  one  thought  it  wrong;  an  impoverished  earl 
with  a  grand  old  title  and  a  bankrupt  estate — there 
was  nothing  for  him  but  to  marry  money,  and  Hildred 
Ransome,  the  lawyer's  daughter,  had  plenty.  There 
was  not  one  of  all  the  men  and  women  who  read 
about  the  marriage,  heard  of  it,  or  discussed  it,  who 
would  have  dreamed  of  interfering — no  one  to  say: 
"Have  pity  on  her  youth  and  her  ignorance;  think 
before  you  sacrifice  her  young,  sweet  life,  her  chance 
of  happiness."  There  was  no  one  to  plead  or  to  pray 
for  her;  on  the  contrary,  the  fair  women  of  the  world 
looked  on  her  with  envy.  It  was  not  every  heiress 
who  could  purchase  a  coronet  like  that  of  Caraven. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


6l 


Her  father  thought  her  a  most  fortunate  girl,  and  did 
not  scruple  to  tell  her  so. 

She  herself  could  not  analyze  her  own  feelings. 
She  was  living  quietly  with  her  father  in  a  river-side 
villa;  a  little  later  on  she  would  be  Countess  of  Car- 
aven,  one  of  the  stars  of  the  fashionable  world.  At 
present  she  was,  as  it  were,  on  the  threshold  of  exist- 
ence: in  a  little  while  a  glowing,  luxurious  future 
would  be  before  her. 

"You  must  have  a  clever  maid,  Hildred,"  said  Arley 
Ranscme.    "Ask  Lady  Riche  to  find  you  one." 

Lady  Riche  succeeded,  and  Hildred  rejoiced  in  the 
attendance  of  a  bright,  quick  Parisienne,  who  foretold 
that  the  day  would  come  when  her  mistress  would  be 
acknowledged  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  in 
England. 

"She  wants  a  little  training;  she  will  have  to  travel 
and  mix  in  society — then  you  will  see,"  reported 
Amiee.  "I  have  never  seen  a  face  or  figure  of  greater 
promise. " 

The  day  before  Hildred's  wedding-day  the  Hollies 
had  been  one  scene  of  excitement  and  confusion; 
there  had  been  so  many  visitors,  the  number  of  pres- 
ents were  so  great.  Late  in  the  evening  a  magnifi- 
cent bridal  bouquet  arrived  from  Lord  Caraven.  The 
wedding-breakfast  was  all  prepared,  the  trunks  con- 
taining all  that  was  needed  of  the  grand  trousseau  were 
packed  and  corded — the  labels  were  already  addressed, 
"Lady  Caraven,  passenger  to  Paris,"  for  the  earl  had 
decided  on  spending  the  so-called  honeymoon  there; 
every  detail  of  the  morrow's  ceremony  was  arranged, 


62 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


and  late  at  night  Hildred  Ransome  stood  with  the 
earl's  bouquet  in  her  hand. 

They  revealed  nothing  to  her,  those  odorous  flowers ; 
they  were  of  magical  sweetness,  but  they  brought  her 
no  message.  There  was  something  pathetic  in  the 
picture — the  drawing-room  full  of  strange  shadows, 
the  light  of  the  lamp  falling  where  she  stood,  a  con- 
trast to  the  darkness  around.  She  wore  a  dressing- 
gown  of  white,  soft,  clinging  material,  fastened  with 
crimson  cords,  her  wealth  of  dark  hair  lay  negligently 
over  her  shoulders,  her  eyes  were  bright  with  unshed 
tears. 

It  was  a  sweet,  sad,  girlish  face;  a  motherly  woman 
looking  at  it  would  have  drawn  the  girl's  head  down 
on  her  breast,  and  have  soothed  her  with  loving  words. 
The  morrow  would  be  her  wedding-day;  the  tired  serv- 
ants were  all  sleeping,  her  attentive  little  maid  had 
gone  to  rest,  her  father  had  retired  quite  early  to  his 
room.  The  morrow  would  be  her  wedding-day,  and 
they  had  told  her  that  she  could  live  without  love. 
Her  wedding-day!  No  laughing  young  sisters  came  to 
talk  over  the  great  event  with  her;  no  gentle,  loving 
mother  folded  her  in  her  arms,  and  prayed  heaven 
to  bless  her  in  her  new  life;  no  laughing,  bright,  fond 
school  friends  were  there  as  companions;  she  was 
quite  alone,  her  heart  aching  and  burning  with  a  new 
sense  of  desolation  and  loneliness.  Her  wedding-day! 
Her  toilet-table  was  laden  with  jewels;  her  fianct  had 
been  lavish  in  his  presents;  no  duchess  had  more 
elegant  or  costly  surroundings — yet  she  would  have 
given  all,  she  thought,  for  someone  to  love  and  com- 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


«3 


fort  her.  Her  wedding-day!  Yet  he  had  not  been, 
he  had  sent  no  note  with  the  flowers,  only  his  card 
and  his  compliments;  there  was  no  promise  of  the  love 
that  was  to  come  after  marriage,  not  one  kindly  word 
to  allay  her  doubts  or  her  fears.  There  could  be  no 
picture  more  touching  than  this  of  the  lonely  girl  with 
the  flowers  in  her  hand.  She  had  turned  to  them  as 
she  would  have  turned  to  a  living  creature;  her  lover, 
who  on  the  morrow  was  to  be  her  husband,  had  not 
been  near,  but  he  had  sent  the  flowers,  and  in  her 
forlorn  fashion  she  had  fancied  she  should  get  some 
comfort  from  them. 

But  they  revealed  nothing  to  her.  The  costly  blos- 
soms lay  cold,  fragrant,  without  meaning.  As  she 
stood  holding  them  there  came  into  her  mind  a  story 
she  had  read  of  a  young  girl  on  her  wedding-eve — a 
girl  who  had  stolen  out  in  the  sweet,  soft  starlight  to 
meet  her  lover  by  the  garden-gate.  She  remembered 
that  the  story  told  how  the  gallant  young  lover  had 
kissed  his  bride — kissed  her  lips  and  her  hands,  calling 
her  by  every  sweet  name  a  lover  could  invent — how 
they  had  stood  under  the  starlight  among  the  trees  and 
the  flowers,  how  full  of  hope  and  happiness  the  young 
lover  went  away,  and  was  never  seen  again. 

She  thought  of  this  story  now.  Her  face  flushed; 
her  heart  beat.  She  dreamed  how  she  woi  Id  have 
liked  to  steal  out  under  the  stars  and  hear  her  hand- 
some lover  whisper  sweet  words  to  her. 

She  was  desolate  and  lonely.  The  stars  were  shin- 
ing, the  wind  was  whispering  low — but  no  lover  was 
near.    She  held  the  flowers  to  her  face* 


54 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


'Tell  me,  pretty  blossoms,"  she  said,  "have  you  no 
message  from  him?  None?  Then,  if  in  all  this  world 
one  sentiment  is  more  false  than  another,  it  must 
surely  be  this: 

"^There's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 
As  love's  young  dream*9" 


CHAPTER  VI 


"some  people  are  never  satisfied" 

Hildred  Ransome  did  not  seem  to  understand  either 
the  day  or  the  event  until  she  stood  before  the  altar  of 
St.  George's  Church.  Then,  with  a  cold  shock  and  a 
cold,  dull  pain,  the  full  realisation  of  it  all  came  to 
her.  It  was  her  wedding-day,  and  she  was  about  to 
marry  the  handsome,  indifferent  earl  who  stood  by  her 
side.  All  that  had  passed  before  seemed  like  a  dream. 
The  sunshine  had  awakened  her.  There  came  a  con- 
fused vision  of  maids  in  waiting,  of  silk  and  lace, 
jewels  and  flowers.  She  had  heard  her  own  maid 
Amiee  say: 

"Poor  young  lady,  it  is  hard  to  have  neither  mother 
nor  sister." 

Lady  Riche  had  swept  into  the  room,  and  had  ad- 
mired the  beautiful  wedding-dress.  The  only  sensa- 
tion that  Hildred  had  had  was  one  of  cold,  sick  faint- 
ness.  When  she  was  dressed  her  father  had  kissed 
her  and  said: 

"You  will  make  a  beautiful  countess,  Hildred. " 

She  had  thought  the  morning  might  bring  her  some 
token  from  her  lover — a  note  or  present — something  to 
remind  her  of  him;  but  it  did  not,  and  her  heart  mis- 
gave her  sorely.  Then,  after  a  long  drive,  she  found 
herself  in  the  fashionable  church  of   St.  George's, 

05 


66 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Hanover  Square.  There  was  a  string  of  carriages  out- 
side; the  church  was  crowded  with  spectators. 

Amid  the  throng,  the  odor  of  flowers,  the  rustle  of 
silk,  the  gleaming  of  satins,  the  shining  of  rare  gems, 
with  the  white-robed  minister  before  her,  and  the 
handsome  earl  by  her  side,  she  realized  the  fact  that 
it  was  her  wedding-day;  hitherto  everything  had 
seemed  as  in  a  dream. 

When  would  the  reality  grow  less  bitter  for  her? 
When  would  she  cease  to  remember  that,  as  he  stood 
by  her  side,  the  earl  seemed  to  avoid  even  touching 
the  silken  dress  and  wedding  veil — that  when  his  hand 
touched  hers  it  was  cold?  No  loving  pressure  reas- 
sured her;  he  barely  touched  her  finger-tips;  he 
averted  his  face,  and  never  once,  during  the  whole  of 
the  ceremony,  looked  at  her.  Would  she  ever  forget 
the  hard,  cold  voice  that  repeated  the  impressive  words, 
"to  love  and  to  cherish  till  death  do  us  part?"  How 
false  it  all  was!  Who  could  look  at  him  and  believe 
that  he  loved  her? 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  passed  through  a  sea  of 
faces — the  people  crowded  round  her  as  she  went  down 
the  church.  She  saw  the  long  line  of  carriages,  the 
profusion  of  wedding  favors.  She  made  no  attempt 
to  speak;  if  she  had  done  so,  she  would  have  lost  her- 
self in  a  passion  of  tears. 

At  home  again,  her  father  took  her  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  her  face,  whispering: 

"My  daughter,  the  Countess  of  Caraven." 

Lady  Riche  had  attempted  a  very  mild  caress. 

"It  went  off  very  well,"  she  said.    "Lord  Caraven 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


67 


looked  tired.  I  had  no  idea  that  we  should  have  so 
many  people  there.  I  hope  my  fichu  was  all  right. 
There  were  some  very  handsome  dresses." 

"A  very  pretty  wedding,"  put  in  Lord  St.  Maure. 
"I  feel  that  I  have  been  busy  to  day  in  a  good  cause." 

But  the  man  who  had  married  Hildred  Ransome 
spoke  never  a  word. 

Then  came  the  wedding-breakfast.  Arley  Ransome 
made  a  speech — described  the  day  as  the  proudest  of 
his  life,  passed  a  magnificent  eulogium  on  his  son-in- 
law,  and  then  sat  down.  There  was  deep  silence 
when  the  newly  made  husband  stood  up  to  make  his 
speech.  No  one  quite  knew  why,  but  an  uncomforta- 
ble sensation  came  over  all.  He  had  but  little  to  say. 
If  he  had  put  into  words  the  thoughts  that  surged 
through  his  brain,  he  would  have  said: 

'Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  have  been  a  spendthrift 
?nd  a  prodigal;  I  have  wasted  my  substance;  I  have 
sp^nt  a  large  fortune — but  I  committed  the  shabbiest, 
wickedest  act  of  my  life  to-day.  I  have  married  a 
young  girl  for  her  money,  and  I  do  not  even  like  her; 
what  is  still  worse,  I  never  shall." 

That  was  what  he  thought.  What  he  said  was  an 
indistinct  murmur;  an  attentive  listener  could  distin- 
guish only  the  words  "honor,"  "pleasure,"  and  "future." 
The  earl  sat  down  again,  without  having  once  looked 
\t  the  face  of  his  wife. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  been  sitting  there  for 
hours;  a  small  bunch  of  purple  grapes  lay  on  her 
plate,  a  glass  of  wine  stood  untouched  by  her  side; 
someone  was  speaking  to  her,  appealing  to  her  by 
her  new  name. 


68 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"What  does  Lady  Caraven  say?' 

She  did  not  know  what  had  preceded  the  question, 
so  could  not  answer  it,  but  looked  round  with  a  smile 
that  satisfied  the  questioner. 

Then  the  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door,  and  the  bride 
went  to  change  her  dress.  Lady  Riche  went  with  her; 
the  girl's  forlorn  manner  and  wistful  face  had  touched 
even  that  worldly  heart. 

"I  hope  you  will  be  happy,  Lady  Caraven,"  she 
said.  "When  they  read  the  account  of  your  wedding, 
every  woman  in  London  will  envy  you." 

"Envy  me,"  she  re-echoed —  I,  who  have  neither 
mother  nor  sisters!" 

"My  dear  Lady  Caraven,  you  have  a  husband  and 
a  father,  which  I  think  better.  Let  me  give  you  one 
little  bit  of  advice.  You  are  going  to  face  the  great, 
cold  world;  have  nothing  to  do  with  sentiment,  and 
as  far  as  possible  care  more  for  yourself  than  anyone 
else." 

"That  is  not  a  happy  marriage,"  thought  Lady 
Riche,  as  she  turned  away.  "What  a  sad  tace  the 
girl  has!  Yet  she  has  married  an  earl.  Well,  some 
•      people  are  never  satisfied." 

Lord  Caraven  bade  his  adieux;  he  shook  hands 
with  Arley  Ransome,  cutting  short  a  gushing  speech 
that  the  lawyer  had  carefully  prepared.  Then  Arley 
Ransome  was  touched  again.  Someone  said  that 
Lady  Caraven  was  in  the  morning  room,  waiting  to  say 
good-bye  to  him  there  alone. 

The  tender  arms  were  clinging  round  him,  the  dark 
eyes  looking  into  his — a  sad,  wistful  face,  full  of 
pathetic  inquiry,  was  near  his  own. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


69 


"Papa,"  she  .whispered,  and  there  was  an  agony  of 
entreaty  in  her  voice,  "you  are  quite  sure  that  you 
have  not  deceived  me — you  are  quite  sure  that  I  can 
be  happy  without  love?" 

He  laughed. 

"You  will  find  that  the  Countess  of  Caraven  has 
more  to  think  about  than  a  trifle  like  love,  Hildred. " 

Her  arms  fell  from  him;  she  raised  her  sad,  sweet, 
girlish  face  from  his  breast. 

"I  will  believe  you,  papa,"  she  said;  "I  will  trust 
you  to  the  very  end." 

Then  she  went  away,  and  Arley  Ransome  would 
have  spent  a  far  happier  day  if  those  words  had  not 
lingered  with  him.  v 

*  *  *  #  #  * 

Hildred  was  alone  with  her  husband  at  last.  Now 
surely  he  would  say  something  to  her — speak  to  her  of 
that  love  that  he  must  feel  for  her;  he  would  not  keep 
up  the  same  indifference  now  she  was  his  wife.  The 
words  that  she  thirsted  for,  that  she  longed  to  hear, 
he  would  surely  utter;  surely  he  would  bend  over  her 
and  say  something,  were  it  only  the  two  words,  "My 
wife." 

What  were  his  first  words?  She  had  thought  of 
many  things  that  he  might  say  to  her — sweet,  tender 
words;  the  reality  was  far  different.  He  leaned- back 
with  an  air  of  utter  weariness. 

"I  never  remember  to  have  found  time  pass  so 
slowly  in  my  life,"  he  said.  "The  sun  is  very  warm. 
Would  you  like  the  carriage  hood  raised?" 


fROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


She  made  no  answer.  He  did  not  even  seem  to 
notice  it. 

"I  wish/'  he  said,  "someone  would  bring  in  a  bill 
for  the  abolition  of  wedding-breakfasts." 
Her  face  flushed  with  anger. 

"A  bill  for  the  abolition  of  weddings  would  be  even 
better,"  she  said. 

He  was  so  far  from  understanding  her  that  he 
laughed.    The  pain  in  her  voice  did  not  reach  him. 

"Do  you  like  being  on  the  sea  at  night?"  he  in- 
quired, after  a  long  pause. 

"I  hardly  know  my  own  likes  or  dislikes  yet,"  she 
replied.    "Why  do  you  ask?" 

"Because  the  boat  leaves  Dover  for  Calais  about 
eleven,  and  I  thought  we  would  take  it." 

"As  you  please,"  she  replied. 

Her  face  was  quite  pale,  her  lips  were  white  and 
pressed  firmly  together.  In  her  heart  was  a  sense  of 
desolation  that  words  could  not  describe.  He  wondered 
at  her  silence,  her  gravity.  It  was  the  height  of  the 
season  at  Dover,  and  the  band  was  playing  on  the 
pier.  He  sat  with  his  wife  in  the  dining-room  of  the 
Lord  Warden,  when  he  saw  her  suddenly  start  as 
though  she  were  frightened.  She  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands,  and  when  she  looked  up  again  her 
eyes  were  dim  with  tears. 

It  was  all  because  the  band  was  playing  "Love's 
Young  Dream." 


CHAPTER  VII 


SUCH  A  STRANGE  WEDDING  TRIP 

Night  on  the  sea!  Innumerable  stars  shone  in  the 
sky,  lambent,  bright,  and  were  reflected  in  the  waves. 
A  western  wind,  sweet  as  the  breath  of  spring,  had 
swept  over  the  land  and  sea,  stirring  the  blue  waves 
and  cresting  them  with  foam.  But  now  the  stillness 
of  the  sea  was  something  marvelous  and  beautiful;  it 
was  as  though  the  great  dark  shadow  of  night  brooded 
over  the  waters — a  stillness  broken  only  by  the  rush- 
ing of  the  water  through  the  paddle-wheels  of  the 
steamer.  Slowly  the  line  of  lights  round  the  coast 
disappeared,  and  at  \last  land  was  out  of  sight;  there 
was  nothing  visible  but  the  heaving,  silvery  waters 
and  the  sky  above. 

Lady  Caraven  sat  on  the  deck;  the  stewardess  had 
advised  her  to  go  to  the  ladies*  cabin,  but  she  declined. 
Why  seek  the  close,  warm  cabin  while  the  stars  were 
shining  on  the  sea?  The  captain  had  brought  a  com- 
fortable seat  for  her;  she  had  a  warm  shawl.  A  faint 
hope  stirred  the  young  wife's  heart;  perhaps,  when 
Lord  Caraven  saw  her  there  alone,  he  might  come 
and  talk  to  her. 

She  saw  him  once  or  twice.  Once  he  asked  her  if 
she  enjoyed  the  beauty  of  the  night,  and  her  answer 
was  "Yes;M  then,  as  though  he  had   fulfilled  a  duty, 

71 


72 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


with  an  air  of  relief  he  walked  away.  She  was  left 
to  her  thoughts — and  they  were  strange  ones. 

This  was  her  wedding-day.  Her  husband  was  the 
tall,  proud,  handsome  man  who  avoided  that  part  of 
the  boat  where  she  sat.  They  were  husband  and  wife, 
yet  they  hardly  exchanged  three  words;  it  was  so 
strange  that  there  were  .  times  when  she  fancied  it 
must  be  a  dream.  Was  this  anything  like  love?  The 
wind  kissed  the  waves;  the  stars  shone  reflected  in 
the  water;  and  with  sharp,  keen,  sweet  memory,  there 
came  to  her  words  she  had  read  only  a  few  short  days 
before: 

"I  have  gone  mad — I  love  you — let  me  die!" 

the  words  Elaine  spoke  when  her  heart  first  opened 
to  the  knowledge  of  her  love. 

Was  the  time  for  such  love  as  this  gone  v  by?  Had 
the  current  of  men's  lives  been  so  completely  changed 
that  love  had  become  a  contract — a  business  arrange- 
ment? If  so,  she  wished  that  she  had  lived  in  Elaine's 
days.  Would  to  heaven  that  some  faint  breath  of 
that  old  world  love  had  been  hers — some  faint  breath 
of  that  mighty  passion  that  had  worked  so  much  evil 
and  so  much  good! 

She  looked  across  the  deck;  her  husband — how 
strangely  the  word  sounded! — was  leaning  over  the 
rails,  talking  to  some  stranger.  The  moon  shone  full 
on  his  handsome  face,  on  the  fair,  clustering  hair. 
Surely  no  knight  of  old  was  ever  more  comely.  Did 
he  love  her?  He  must  have  loved  her,  or  he  would 
never  have  married  her. 

But  what  manner  of  love  was  this?    If  she  could 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


73 


but  forget  all  she  had  read,  and  learn  to  look  on  love 
as  he  evinced  it;  if  she  could  but  lay  these  ghosts 
that  seemed  to  haunt  her — ghosts  of  the  mightiest 
passion  that  ever  stirred  men's  hearts;  if  she  could 
but  still  the  beating  heart,  the  beating  pulse!  That 
was  her  husband  with  the  clear-cut  face  and  noble 
head — her  husband,  whom  that  very  day  she  had 
sworn  to  love  until  death.  He  was  smiling  at  some- 
thing that  his  companion  had  said,  a  cold,  clear,  bright 
smile — cold  and  bright  as  the  moonlight.  She  had 
a  right  to  cross  the  deck  and  speak  to  him  if  she  liked; 
she  had  a  right  to  go  to  him,  to  lay  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  to  call  him  by  his  name. 

If  she  did,  would  a  gleam  of  tenderness  flash  into 
the  handsome  face,  or  would  he  turn  half  haughtily 
away?    Should  she  go  to  him  and  say: 

"My  husband,  love  me  a  little.  I  am  young,  I  am 
lonely  and  desolate — love  me  a  little.  Hold  my  hands 
in  yours;  let  me  stand  by  your  side.  Do  not  stay  so 
far  from  me!" 

What  was  it  Elaine  had  cried? 

"And  I  must  die  for  want  of  one  bold  word." 

Should  she  let  the  starlight  pass,  the  witching,  lonely 
night  pass,  and  say  nothing  to  him?  Was  this  curi- 
ous silence  between  them  never  to  be  broken?  What 
caused  it?  What  could  it  mean?  Should  she  go  to 
him  and  ask  him  why,  if  he  loved  her,  he  was  ashamed 
to  show  it — why,  if  he  did  not  love  her,  he  had  mar- 
ried her?    Should  she  go? 

She  half  rose  from  her  seat.  Even  if  she  were 
imprudent,  it  would  not  matter;  the  silent  stars  could 


74 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


keep  their  own  secret— they  would  never  tell  what 
passed  beneath  them. 

Then  she  hesitated,  If  he  should  turn  contemptu- 
ously away!  No,  she  would  not  go  to  him;  it  was  his 
place  to  woo,  not  hers.  If  he  wanted  to  speak  to  her, 
he  would  know  where  to  find  her.  She  would  be 
wooed;  she  would  not  lose  her  dignity.  She  had 
read  somewhere  or  other  that  men  never  loved  women 
who  sought  them. 

So  I  will  not  seek  him,"  she  said  to  herself;  "though 
I  am  not  a  woman  yet — I  am  only  a  girl— only  eight- 
een." 

It  was  a  fair,  troubled,  wistful  face  that  was  bent 
over  the  star-lighted  water — a  face  sad  with  thoughts 
that  should  have  had  no  place  on  her  wedding-day. 
The  earl  had  seen  her  rise,  and  came  to  her. 

"Are  you  tired?"  he  asked.  "We  shall  not  be  very 
long  now;  I  can  see  the  lights  on  the  French  coast. 
The  night  is  very  fine.    Are  you  tired?" 

"No,  I  never  tire  of  the  sea,"  she  replied.  "Indeed, 
I  should  like  to  live  near  it." 

"Ravensmere  is  near  the  sea,"  he  told  her.  "You 
can  see  it  from  the  castle  towers." 

"I  had  forgotten  that  I  was  to  live  at  Ravensmere, 
or  I  should  not  have  said  that,"  she  remarked,  quickly. 
"I  did  not  know  that  it  was  near  the  sea." 

"Your  father  has  two  maps  of  the  estate.  Have  you 
not  seen  them?"  he  asked. 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly, 

"Why  should  I  see  them?"  she  asked.  "Certainly 
not." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"You  do  not  inherit  your  father's  business  talents, 
then?"  he  said. 

But  he  repented  of  the  words  almost  before  they 
were  uttered.  She  did  not  understand  them,  or  see 
the  meaning  of  them.    She  answered,  quite  simply: 

"No,  I  know  nothing  of  business.  I  care  much  for 
study.  I  often  think  it  strange  that  my  father  and  I 
have  not  one  taste  in  common." 

He  thought  to  himself  that  it  was  a  fortunate  thing. 
Then  he  asked  her  if  she  had  ever  been  to  Paris  before 
— if  she  should  like  the  center  of  the  city — if  there 
was  any  part  that  she  preferred. 

"I  always  stay  at  the  Hotel  Meurice,  near  the  Tuil- 
eries, "  he  said;  "but  if  you  prefer  any  other  part—" 

No.  She  had  been  to  Paris  only  once— that  was 
for  her  holidays.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  city.  And 
then  the  young  husband  looked  over  the  blue  waters. 
He  had  shown  her  due  politeness  and  attention.  He 
was  ill  at  ease  and  longing  to  be  away  again.  He 
did  not  notice  how  wistful  was  the  fair,  young  face 
turned  to  him.    He  bowed  politely  and  went  away. 

She  clinched  her  little  hand;  she  tried  to  still  the 
beating  of  her  heart.  Her  husband — married  that  day 
— yet  had  he  no  more  to  say  than  this?  The  lights 
on  the  French  coast  were'  close  at  hand;  she  could 
even  in  the  silence  hear  the  waves  breaking  on  the 
shore.  Amiee  stood  near,  with  a  large  carriage-wrap 
in  her  hand.  Lady  Caraven  wondered  if  her  husband 
would  come  to  her,  or  if  he  would  alloiv  her  to  land 
with  the  help  of  servants. 

He  approached  hurriedly. 


76 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"We  have--  time  for  refreshments,"  he  said;  "the 
train  will  not  start  for  twenty  minutes." 

They  went  into  the  refreshment-room,  where  he 
ordered  soup  and  wine.  He  was  solicitous  for  her 
comfort,  he  was  attentive  to  her  wants,  but  she  noticed 
that  he  spoke  to  her  only  when  civility  dictated  that 
he  should  speak,  and  that  when  he  did  address  her 
he  never  looked  at  her. 

He  took  his  seat  by  her  side  in  the  railway-carriage. 
They  traveled  through  the  fresh  dewy  night,  the  pleas- 
ant air  coming  in  at  the  open  windows.  He  had  care- 
fully provided  her  with  books  and  newspapers— with 
railway  literature. 

"It  is  quite  evident,"  she  thought,  "that  he  intends 
me  to  read — he  has  no  desire  to  talk  to  me." 

They  did  not  exchange  many  words.  Sometimes, 
when  the  wind  blew,  he  asked  her  if  she  was  chilly. 
He  offered  to  close  the  window,  but  she  would  not 
allow  him — it  was  some  relief  to  her  to  watch  the 
fair  sky  and  the  fair  earth.  This  was  such  a  strange 
wedding-trip.  She  wondered  if  the  time  would  ever 
come  that  he  and  she  would  laugh  over  it — would 
wonder  why  they  had  both  been  so  silent,  so  reserved. 
She  wondered  a  thousand  -things  Would  her  hus- 
band ever  laugh  and  talk  gayly,  brightly  to  her,  as  he 
had  done  to  the  gentleman  on  deck.  Would  he  in 
time  lay  aside  his  reserve,  his  coldness?  Would  he 
ever  look  pleased  or  bright? 

How  strange  that  he  should  be  so  grave,  so  still — 
that  ne  had  not  even  one  kind  word  to  say  to  her  on 
this,  their  wedding-day!    How  strange   that  he  had 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


77 


paid  her  no  compliment,  never  asked  her  opinion  on 
any  subject,  never  treated  her  otherwise  than  with  the 
courtesy  due  to  a  stranger! 

She  was  obliged  continually  to  remind  herself  that 
he  had  asked  her  to  be  his  wife.  He  must  have  cared 
for  her,  or  he  would  not  have  married  her.  He  was 
not  a  demonstrative  man,  perhaps.  Then  she  turned 
slowly  from  the  sky  to  the  handsome,  high-bred  face 
near  her.  He  was  reading  intently,  never  looking  up 
from  his  book.  It  was  not  the  face  of  a  cold-hearted 
cynic — far  from  it.  Then  her  eyes  wandered  slowly 
away  again. 

The  lovely  dawn  was  flushing  in  the  skies,  the  birds 
were  singing,  the  air  seemed  to  stir  with  new  life — it 
was  the  dawn  of  another  day.  How  often  would  the 
sun  rise  and  set  before  she  would  understand  this 
strange  silence  of  the  husband  by  her  side—how  many 
weary  dawns  would  there  be? 

Suddenly — she  could  not  tell  why — her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  The  sky,  the  trees,  the  distant  hills,  were 
all  blurred  and  indistinct.  She  experienced  a  keen 
sense  of  desolation  that  no  words  could  express.  She 
would  have  given  anything  to  be  back  with  her  father 
again. 

"Paris  at  last?"  said  Lord  Caraven.  "What  a  long 
journey  it  has  been.  I  am  always  longing  for  some 
motive  power  greater  than  steam — I  should  like  to 
travel  more  quickly." 

But  she  had  no  laughing  answer.  It  had  struck  her 
that  no  husband  ought  to  find  his  first  journey  with 
his  wife  long  or  tiresome.  Again  the  sweet,  wild 
words  of  Elaine  came  to  her: 


78 


ttlOM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


WI  have  gone  mad — I  love  you — let  me  di*.* 

inhere  was  neither  love  nor  madness  here. 

Paris  at  last — Paris  in  the  gay  morning  sunlight. 
They  drove  straight  to  the  hotel;  and  then,  for  the 
first  time,  it  seemed  to  her,  he  spoke  kindly.  He  said: 

"You  look  very  tired — I  should  advise  you  to  get 
some  rest.  I  always  find  a  cigar  and  the  morning  air 
most  refreshing  after  a  journey." 

Half  an  hour  afterward  she  stood  alone  in  her  room. 
She  looked  at  herself  in  the  tall  mirror.  It  was  a 
pale  face,  with  wistful,  shadowed  eyes,  that  she  saw 
therein.  She  was  fatigued  in  body  and  in  mind, 
yet  she  could  not  sleep.  If  she  only  understood,  if 
she  only  knew  the  meaning  of  this  silent  love  of  her 
husband's  that  had  never  yet  been  expressed  in  words! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"YOU  KNOW  WHY  I  MARRIED  YOU* 

A  week  had  passed  since  Lady  Caraven  reached 
Paris — a  strange  week.  She  had  seen  but  little  of  her 
husband.  He  never  took  breakfast  with  her;  they 
met  at  dinner,  and  twice  he  had  taken  her  to  the 
opera.  He  never  interfered  in  the  least  with  any  of 
her  affairs.  He  sent  up  her  letters  unopened,  and 
never  even  inquired  from  whom  they  came.  He  sent 
every  morning  to  ask  if  she  had  any  particular  wish 
for  that  day — if  there  was  any  place  she  desired  to 
see.  At  first  she  said  "Yes,"  and  went  to  the  differ- 
ent places  of  note.  He  accompanied  her,  but  she  could 
not  avoid  thinking  that  he  was  slightly  bored  by  these 
excursions.  The  next  time  he  sent  she  declined,  and 
he  did  not  remonstrate;  he  made  no  remark,  and  she 
felt  almost  sure  that  he  was  relieved  by  her  refusal. 
When  they  went  to  the  opera,  they  were  never  alone 
— he  always  secured  some  companion.  It  seemed  to 
Hildred  that  he  was  quite  as  much  a  stranger  as  on 
the  first  day  he  entered  the  Hollies. 

"Shall  I  ever  be  part  of  his  life?"  she  thought. 
"Shall  I  grow  to  be  heart  of  his  heart,  soul  of  his  soul? 
Shall  I  ever  know  what  he  thinks,  what  he  likes,  what 
he  loves?" 

She  had,  indeed,  no  part  in  his  existence — he  lived 

79 

t 


8o 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


as  though  she  were  not.  He  had  fulfilled  his  part  of 
the  contract  by  giving  her  his  name,  his  rank,  his 
position.  That  a  living,  beating  human  heart  might 
long  for  more  did  not  occur  to  him.  He  never  thought 
of  her  as  his  wife;  the  chances  were  that,  if  anyone 
had  asked  him  suddenly  if  he  was  married,  he  would 
have  said  "No."  He  had  paid  the  forfeit  of  his  folly 
by  being  in  some  measure  compelled  to  burden  him- 
self with  this  young  girl. 

And  it  was  a  burden.  He  did  not  care  to  look  at  the 
wistful,  girlish  face,  to  meet  the  dark  eyes  eloquent 
with  a  thousand  thoughts,  to  see  the  scarlet  lips  'mute 
and  tremulous.  He  was  not  of  an  unkindly  nature. 
He  was  indolent,  careless,  selfish  in  most  respects, 
but  not  unkindly;  he  would  not,  if  he  knew  it,  cause 
deliberate  pain — he  could  not  have  enjoyed  the  tort- 
ure of  anything  created.  It  was  said  of  him  that  he 
had  turned  away  sick  and  faint  at  witnessing  the 
death  agony  of  a  bird  he  had  wounded,  but  not 
killed.  Such  a  man  could  not  be  deliberately,  wan- 
tonly cruel;  and  this  wistful,  girlish  face  with  the 
dark,  sad  eyes,  troubled  him. 

At  first  he  was  considerably  surprised  in  his  wife. 
He  thought  to  himself  that  the  daughter  of  a  man  like 
lawyer  Ransome,  sharp,  shrewd,  cunning,  must  inherit 
some  of  his  propensities — that  she  would  occupy  her- 
self with  small  intrigues  and  maneuvers  of  all  kinds. 
She  did  nothing  of  the  sort;  she  was  quiet,  grave, 
calm,  self-possessed.  He  did  not  even  dream  of  the 
unstirred  passion  and  tenderness  in  her  girlish  heart. 

It  was  decidedly  tiresome  having  a  wife.    True  he 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


8i 


saw  little  of  her — for  days  together  they  sometimes 
did  mot  exchange  a  word;  but  people  had  begun  to 
look  upon  him  as  a  married  man,  and  he  did  not  like 
it — when  they  met  him  they  asked  how  Lady  Caraven 
was. 

"Lady  Caraven!"  He  smiled  scornfully  to  himself, 
remembering  all  the  fair  and  stately  dames  who  had 
borne  that  name;  remembering  the  dark-eyed  girl  who 
now  bore  it,  he  smiled  in  bitterest  scorn. 

He  had  never  been  one  of  those  men  who  look  for- 
ward to  marriage  as  the  one  great  end  and  aim  of  life. 
It  had  never  had  any  charm  for  him,  even  in  the 
days  when  he  was  free  to  dream  as  he  would;  but  his 
visions  had  been  of  a  golden-haired  love,  radiant  and 
fair,  never  of  a  girl-wife,  the  daughter  of  a  man  who 
had,  as  it  were,  outwitted  him — the  child  of  a  man 
who  had  dealt  faithlessly  with  him.  He  shuddered  at 
the  very-thought  of  it. 

He  was  not  given  to  thought — the  rules  of  right 
and  wrong  had  not  troubled  him  very  much.  He  never 
realized  that  it  was  wrong  to  have  married  a  girl  he 
did  not  like—  wrong  to  leave  a  young  wife  so  entirely  ( 
alone.  He  never  thought  of  those  things;  he  only 
remembered  that  marriage  was  a  burden  to  him,  that/ 
his  wife's  presence  was  some  kind  of  mute  reproach,' 
that  he  was  a  thousand  times  happier  away  from  her 
than  with  her. 

Certainly  he  felt  the  burden  less  at  Paris  than  he 
would  have  felt  it  elsewhere,  because  there  was  always 
something  to  occupy  him  and  distract  his  thoughts, 
there  were  always  kind  friends  to  relieve  him  of  the 
ennui  and  tediousness  of  existence. 


82 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


One  evening  he  was  rather  startled  by  Hildred. 
There  was  a  favorite  singer  at  the  opera,  and  they 
went  to  hear  her.  She  was  very  fair,  and  the  gentle- 
men were  busily  engaged  in  discussing  her.  With 
Lord  and  Lady  Caraven  was  a  Frenchman,  the  Comte 
de  Quesne,  a  great  admirer  of  fair  women.  The  con- 
versation, kept  up  chiefly  between  the  two  gentlemen, 
was  about  the  charming  actress. 

"She  is  of  the  real  English  type,"  said  the  comte, 
"and  the  English  ladies  are  so  fair — they  are  adora- 
ble! " 

"I  think  myself,"  remarked  the  earl,  "that  a  fair- 
haired  English  girl  is  certainly  the  loveliest  object  in 
creation." 

The  comte  laughed. 

"You  prefer  the  blondes  to  the  brunettes,  then?"  he 
said. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Lord  Caraven.  "I  do  not  see 
how  a  woman  can  be  beautiful  unless  she  be  fair." 

He  had  entirely  forgotten  his  young  girl-wife  with 
the  dark  eyes  and  the  Spanish  face.  He  would  not 
have  wantonly  pained  her,  but  he  had  forgotten  her 
presence.  She  heard  the  words.  At  the  time  she  made 
no  remark,  although  they  burned  into  her  heart  like 
fire. 

The  comte  went  home  with  them,  and  they  were 
joined  by  another  friend;  but  she  found  an  opportu- 
nity of  speaking  to  her  husband  when  the  other  gentle- 
men were  busy  with  ecarte,  and  Lord  Caraven  had 
withdrawn  to  look  over  some  letters  that  had  just 
arrived.  She  summoned  up  courage  and  went  up  to 
him. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


83 


^Lord  Caraven,"  she  said,  "would  you  mind  telling 
me  one  thing?" 

He  looked  up  in  wonder — it  was  so  seldom  thc.t  she 
voluntarily  addressed  him.  As  he  looked  he  was 
slightly  impressed  with  her  appearance — the  tall,  slen- 
der figure  was  draped  in  soft,  shining  silk,  the  girlish 
face  was  flushed  with  the  effort  of  speaking  to  him, 
the  dark  eyes  were  bright  and  starlike,  filled  with 
unutterable  thoughts.  He  could  not  help  owning  to 
himself  that  there  was  some  beauty  in  the  thick  coils 
of  dark  hair,  in  the  tall,  slim,  graceful  figure,  in  the 
perfect  grace  and  harmony.  She  was  simply  yet  beau- 
tifully dressed;  a  pomegranate  blossom  lay  in  the  coils 
of  her  hair. 

"I  want  you  to  tell  me  one  thing,"  she  repeated. 
"If  you  admire  fair  girls  with  golden  hair,  why  did 
you  marry  me,  with  hair  and  eyes  so  dark?" 

She  asked  the  question  in  such  perfect  good  faith, 
in  such  earnest  tones,  with  such  sad,  sweet  eyes,  that 
he  was  touched,  not  deeply,  but  as  he  would  have  been 
had  some  child  come  to  him  with  trembling  lips  to 
tell  a  pitiful  tale. 

"Why,"  she  said,  "if  that  was  the  case,  did  you 
marry  me?" 

"You  know  why  I  married  you,"  he  replied,  gravely 
— "why  ask  me  the  question?" 

He  saw  a  vivid  color  spread  over  her  face,  a  bright 
light  shine  in  her  eyes.  The  simple  girl  thought 
and  believed  he  meant  that  she  knew  he  had  married 
her  because  he  loved  her.  Her  heart  gave  a  great, 
glad  bound.    He  loved  her!    She  would  understand 


84  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

better  in  time;  she  would  know  why  he  seemed  re- 
served, reticent,  cold,  and  indifferent. 

"You  know  why  I  married  you,"  the  handsome  earl 
had  said;  and  the  words  filled  her  heart  with  a  strange, 
sweet  pain.  t 

"I  will  try  to  remember,"  she  said,  gently. 

Dull  as  was  his  ear,  he  heard  new  music  in  her 
voice. 

"You  will  remember  what?"  he  asked. 

"I  will  remember  why  you  have  married  me,"  she 
replied;  and  as  she  went  away  he  wondered  greatly. 

"I  should  not  think  that  she  is  likely  to  forget  it," 
he  said  to  himself.  "Certainly  women  are  puzzles. 
She  will  try  to  remember  why  I  married  her — and  the 
words  seemed  like  melting  music  on  her  lips,  a  light 
that  was  like  sunshine  on  flowers  spread  over  her  face! 
Why,  I  married  her  because  her  father  sold  her  for  a 
title  and  she  was  willing  to  be  sold!" 

To  those  dying  with  thirst  the  fall  of  dew  is  a 
boon.  To  Lady  Caraven  the  earl's  few  words  seemed 
full  of  meaning;  she  said  them  over  and  over  again 
to  herself,  "You  know  why  I  married  you."  She  said 
them  with  many  varieties  of  accent,  with  different 
intonations,  and  each  time  that  she  repeated  them 
they  seemed  to  mean  more  and  more.  For  some  hours 
she  felt  much  happier;  it  was  like  a  break  in  the  cold 
tide  of  indifference.  She  kept  expecting  kinder  words 
to  follow,  but  they  did  not.  Lord  Caraven  did  not 
appear  to  remember  what  he  had  said. 

He  went  out  that  evening  after  the  "little  supper" 
was  over.    She  heard  a  whisper  of  "billiards." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


85 


Nothing  came  of  the  one  solitary  gleam  of  kindness, 
f he  next  day  Hildred  did  not  see  the  earl  at  all;  he 
went  over  to  St.  Cloud  with  some  of  his  friends.  The 
slight  gleam  of  happiness  died  away,  and  the  old  feel- 
ing of  desolation  came  back  to  her.  The  Comtesse 
de  Quesne  called  and  pressed  her  to  go  out  but  the 
girl  was  sick  at  heart.  It  was  such  a  strange  life — 
married  without  love,  without  even  friendship  or  liking 
— married,  yet  living  with  her  husband  as  though  sh^ 
were  the  merest  stranger — his  wife,  bearing  his  name, 
sharing  his  fate,  yet  knowing  no  more  of  him  than 
did  the  lowest  servant  in  the  household;  his  thoughts, 
his  mind,  his  plans,  his  desifes,  his  interests,  his 
amusements,  his  pleasures  were  all  strange  to  her.  It 
was  an  unheard-of  position,  an  unheard-of  fate. 

"If  I  did  not  know  that  he  had  married  me  because 
he  loved  me,  I  should  say  rather  that  he  did  not  like 
me,"  was  a  thought  which  often  occurred  to  her,  but 
she  drove  it  away  as  unworthy.  "If  I  were  beautiful," 
thought  the  lonely  girl,  "I  should  think  that  he  had 
married  me  for  my  beauty* — if  I  had  grand  connections, 
for  them;  but  I  have  none — I  have  nothing — 'my  love 
has  stooped  to  me  from  high  estate.'  I  shall  never 
understand  what  he  saw  in  me  to  make  him  love  me." 

She  had  paid  so  little  attention  to  the  words  that 
she  did  not  even  remember  that  she  had  been  called 
"Arley  Ransome's  heiress."  Of  all  the  ideas  that 
occurred  to  her,  the  one  that  she  had  been  married 
for  her  money  was  the  furthest  from  her  thoughts. 

Three  weeks  had  passed  away,  and  Lord  Caraven 


86 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


began  to  wonder  how  much  longer  he  was  to  remain 
in  Paris.  If  he  had  been  free  to  follow  his  own  inclina- 
tions, they  would  have  led  him  to  the  gaming-tables  at 
Baden-Baden.  But,  as  he  said  impatiently,  he  had  no 
idea  of  going  there  with  a  whole  train  of  people  to 
look  after. 

How  long  would  she  expect  to  remain  in  Paris? 
The  honeymoon — that  most  absurd  of  'all  institutions 
— was  supposed  to  last  a  month.  It  would  be  better, 
perhaps,  to  remain  there  until  it  was  over,  and  then 
go  to  Ravensmere.  He  would  be  more  comfortable 
there.  The  house  was  spacious,  and  it  would  be  pos- 
sible for  him  to  move  about  without  being  haunted  by 
the  girlish,  wistful  face.  So  in  Paris,  until  the  honey- 
moon was  over,  he  decided  on  remaining. 


CHAPTER  IX 


MI  HAVE  GONE  MAD — I  LOVE  YOU — LET  ME  DIE" 

Lady  Caraven  was  willing  to  go  to  Ravensmere— 
willing  to  go  anywhere  that  the  earl  suggested.  She 
had  grown  quiescent.  A  new,  strange  feeling  was 
stirring  in  her  breast;  it  was  love  for  her  husband  — 
love  for  the  handsome,  debonair  earl. 

She  did  not  know  it;  she  was  simple,  inexperienced, 
unused  in  all  the  ways  of  love.  She  knew  nothing  of 
the  signs  that  heralded  its  approach — she  knew  noth- 
ing oi  its  pains,  its  torments,  its  pleasures — she  knew 
nothing  of  its  thousand  and  one  Protean  shapes. 
She  remembered  so  distinctly  when  the  first  beating 
of  her  heart  made  her  almost  afraid  of  him.  They 
had  gone  together  to  a  fashionable  ball.  Lord  Cara- 
ven was  always  scrupulously  polite  to  his  wife  in  pub- 
lic— never  kind,  never  affectionate,  but  frigidly  polite. 
He  always  led  her  to  a  seat,  remaining  on  duty  for  a 
few  minutes,  holding  her  fan  and  her  bouquet.  She 
was  the  only  one  who  ever  heard  his  faint  sigh  of  relief 
when  the  duty  was  ove*. 

On  this  evening  she  had  taken  great  pains  with  her 
dress.  It  was  of  the  palest,  prettiest  shade  of  pink 
— "Tears  of  roses,"  larmes  des  roses,  her  milliner  had 
called  it — and  the  delicate  tint  improved  her  as  noth- 

87 


88 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


ing  else  could  have  done.  With  it  she  wore  a  superb 
parure  of  diamonds. 

r'Miladi  is  magnifique  to-night,"  said  Amiee,  proudly. 

And  Lady  Caraven  looked  wistfully  into  the  mirror. 

She  must  have  been  blind  not  to  see  the  startling 
loveliness  therein.  The  low  evening  dress  showed 
exquisitely-molded  shoulders  and  a  fair  neck  white  as 
marble;  a  diamond  cross  shone  on  the  white  breast. 
There  was  a  dainty  bloom  on  the  southern  face.  The 
noble,  queenly  head  looked  worthy  of  the  diamond 
tiara;  but  no  smile  of  content  or  satisfaction  parted 
the  crimson  lips. 

"I  wish,"  she  said  with  a  deep  sigh — "oh,  how  I 
wish  that  I  had  golden  hair !  I  wish  that  I  could 
change  it." 

"Why,  my  lady,  you  have  the  most  beautiful  hair  in 
all  the  world,"  cried  the  maid,  who  honestly  believed 
it.  "I  have  never  seen  hair  so  long,  so  shining,  so 
soft. " 

"It  is  the  wrong  color,"  sighed  Lady  Caraven;  "but 
even  if  I  could  change  my  hair,  my  eyes  will  always 
be  dark;"  and  to  herself  she  added:  "He  does  not 
like  dark  eyes — he  said  so." 

Many  admiring  eyes  followed  the  countess  that 
evening. 

"That  will  be  one  of  the  handsomest  women  in 
Europe,"  said  a  courtly  embassador,  who  spent  quite 
as  much  time  in  making  love  as  he  did  in  arranging 
matters  political.  "I  should  like  to  see  her  again  in 
two  years'  time — she  will  look  like  one  of  Titian's  sub- 
jects just  come  out  of  its  frame." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


89 


On  this  night,  as  on  other  occasions,  the  earl  stood 
patiently  by  his  young  wife  until  he  was  released. 
Then  their  hostess  came  to  speak  to  her,  bringing  with 
her  the  prettiest  woman  in  the  room,  Madame  de  Com- 
balle,  a  lovely  young  blonde,  who  was  charmed  with 
the  English  countess.  She  sat  down  by  Hildred's 
side,  and  began  talking  in  her  gay,  lively  fashion. 

"I  have  not  seen  your  husband  yet,"  said  madame. 
"They  tell  me  he  is  young  and  handsome.    Is  it  so?" 

Hildred's  face  flushed  crimson;  madame  laughed 
good-naturedly. 

"You  blush,"  she  said.  "How  droll!  I  should  not 
blush  if  you  praised  my  husband.  It  is  all  so  differ- 
ent with  you  English — you  marry  for  love,  and  blush 
all  your  lives." 

"There  is  my  husband,"  said  Hildred,  quietly — 
"you  can  judge  for  yourself." 

Madame  looked  in  the  direction  indicated.  She 
was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  she  said, 
slowly: 

"Rumor  was  right  this  time — he  is  very  handsome 
and  distinguished-looking.  I  admire  him  very  much. 
My  husband  is  sixty  years  old,  and  has  white  hair — 
see,  he  stands  there,  with  a  star  on  his  breast." 

On"  looking,  Hildred  saw  an  elderly  man,  very  plain, 
very  stout. 

"H9W  strange!"  she  said,  impulsively.  "He  looks 
much  older  than  you  do." 

"I  hope  so,"  returned  madame  with  a  little  laugh; 
'but  it  was  an  excellent  marriage,  an  excellent  arrange- 
ment— everyone  said  so." 


go 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"An    arrangement,"    repeated    Hildred —  what  a 

strange  word!" 

"Why  strange?  asked  madame  frankly.  "I  had — 
so  everyone  was  pleased  to  say — a  charming  face  and 
a  perfect  temper.  Monsieur  had  a  large  fortune  and 
an  ancient  name.    Could  anything  be  more  equal?" 

"But  love,"  said  the  puzzled  girl,  "you  say  nothing 
of  love,  madame." 

The  lady  laughed.  Was  there  the  least  touch  of 
bitterness,  the  slightest  suspicion  of  pain,  in  that 
laugh — or  was  Hildred  mistaken? 

"Love?  That  is — pardon  me — an  English  mistake. 
You  marry  for  love  in  England  and  it  comes  to  the 
same  thing;  we  marry  in  France  because  it  is  suitable. 
The  end  is  the  same,  so  far  as  I  can  see.  Your  hus- 
band is  certainly  the  handsomest  man  in  the  room 
to  night;  you  ought  to  be  proud  of  him." 

Madame  went  away  to  join  the  dancers,  and  Hil- 
dred looked  long  at  her  husband's  face.  It  was  unde- 
niably handsome,  but  she  fancied  the  expression  was 
not  one  of  happiness.  She  was  proud  of  him.  He 
was  cold  and  indifferent,  yet  he  was  her  husband;  he 
had  chosen  her  from  the  whole  world  to  be  his  wife. 
There  were  lovely  women  in  the  room — women  of  the 
type  he  admired,  fair,  with  golden  hair — women  whom 
he  had  met  and  known  before;  he  might  have  married 
one  of  these,  but  he  had  chosen  her. 

It  was  then  that  the  first  faint  thrill  of  wifely  love 
passed  over  her  like  the  breath  of  a  summer  wind, 
leaving  her  faint  and  trembling — that  love  that  was  to 
be  strong  as  death" — that  was  to  leave  all,  dare  all, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


9* 


conquer  all— that  was  to  crown  her  glorious  woman- 
hood— that  was  to  tune  her  whole  being  to  perfect 
harmony. 

She  had  admired  the  earl,  she  had  liked  h.m,  she  had 
been  puzzled  by  him,  she  had  wondered  at  him;  but 
this  was  the  first  time  that  she  had  cared  for  him. 
There  came  to  her  a  sweet,  sudden,  sharp  pain,  a  sud- 
den gleam  of  happiness,  a  sensation  that  made  her 
heart  and  her  head  whirl.  Those  words  of  Elaine's 
that  had  haunted  her  did  not  seem  so  strange  now7: 

4T  have  gone  mad — I  love  you — i^t  me  die!" 

She  had  thought  them  exaggerated  before;  she  had 
wondered  at  them.  She  did  not  do  so  now.  She  felt 
that  the  same  impulse  was  within  her.  She  could  have 
stretched  out  her  arms,  and  have  gone  to  him,  crying: 
**I  have  gone  mad — I  love  you!°  She  could  under- 
stand something  of  it  now,  thai  sharp,  sweet  pain. 
There  came  to  her  mind  the  words  of  an  old  song: 

"Love  is  bitter-sweet,  they  say." 

Could  it  be  that  this  same  pain  grown  all  sweet,  this 
same  strange  glamour,  was  what  the  poet  meant  when 
he  said  there  was  "nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life  as 
love's  young  dream?"  Did  he,  her  husband,  who- never 
looked  toward  that  part  of  the  room  where  she  was  — 
did  he  care  for  her  after  this  fashion?  No;  if  he  did 
he  would  talk  to  her.  At  that  moment,  if  she  had 
been  asked  what  was,  her  highest  ideal  of  worldly 
bliss,  she  wrould  have  answered:  "Talking  to  my  hus- 
band." 


92 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


She  watched  him.  Where  had  she  read  these  lines? 

"His  sunny  hair 
Clustered  about  his  temples  like  a  god's." 

They  described  him  well.  She  watched  him.  How 
courteous,  how  graceful  he  was.  He  was  talking  now 
to  a  duchess— how  courtly  and  chivalrous  was  his 
manner! 

"If  he  would  but  smile  so  when  he  speaks  to  me," 
she  said  to  herself.  "His  eyes  are  always  cold;  no 
warmth  or  brightness  ever  comes  into  them  for  me." 

She  could  not  help  feeling  proud  of  him.  Do  as 
she  would,  a  sense  of  proprietorship  came  over  her. 
He  might  talk  gayly  and  brightly  to  these  ladies,  but 
he  was  her  husband.  From  all  the  world  he  had 
chosen  to  marry  her.  He  cared  for  no  one  else — that 
was  certain. 

In  some  way  that  she  could  hardly  understand  that 
night  formed  an  epoch  in  her  life.  She  found  out 
then  how  much  she  admired  her  husband,  and  she  had 
felt  the  first  faint  thrill  of  that  love  which  was  to  be 
as  her  life.  Life  was  never  quite  the  same  to  her 
again. 

Time  passed  on,  and  brought  with  it  no  change.  The 
earl  lengthened  his  stay  in  Paris  because  some  inti- 
mate friends  of  his  came  hither,  and  he,  in  conse- 
quence, was  well  amused,  while  Hildred  shrank  more 
and  more  from  the  great,  gay,  heartless  world.  She 
grew  in  beauty  every  day;  the  change  of  scene,  the 
clear,  brilliant  atmosphere,  the  magnificence  that  sur- 
rounded her,  all  seemed  to  aid  in  developing  her.  She 
was  an  unformed  school-girl  when  Ulric  Caraven  first 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


93 


took  her  hither;  she  was  a  graceful,  self-possessed 
woman  of  the  world  when  she  left.  The  regular  feat- 
ures developed  into  wonderful  beauty.  The  expres- 
sion of  her  face  was,  perhaps,  its  greatest  charm — it 
was  one  of  expectation.  The  dark,  lustrous  eyes 
seemed  to  be  always  asking  a  question.  The  sweet, 
sad  lips  were  parted,  as  though  she  were  about  to 
speak.  Lord  Caraven  was  the  only  one  near  her  who 
did  not  see  and  marvel  at  the  change.  It  was  a  face 
now  to  arrest  the  attention  of  a  poet  or  artist;  passion 
and  tenderness,  subdued  hope,  were  all  there. 

There  were  times  when  Lord  Caraven  was  startled 
at  hearing  people  compliment  him  on  the  great  beauty 
of  his  wife.  He  accepted  all  such  compliments  in  a 
spirit  of  good-humored  toleration.  He  was  very  kind, 
of  course — he  knew  that  she  was  merely  an  unformed 
school-girl;  still,  if  they  liked  to  believe  in  her  beauty, 
he  had  really  no  objection.  He  never  looked  at  the 
girl's  sweet  face  to  see  if  it  was  true. 

September  had  almost  passed  when  the  earl  once 
more  mentioned  home.  He  asked  his  wife  if  she 
could  tear  herself  from  the  dissipations  of  Paris.  He 
wondered  that  she  looked  so  bright  at  going  away. 
He  did  not  know  what  she  was  thinking.  Here,  in 
this  brilliant,  sunny  Paris,  he  had  not  shown  any  love 
for  her;  he  had,  in  fact,  hardly  seen  her — he  had  treat- 
ed her  as  a  perfect  stranger.  But  it  might  be  differ- 
ent in  his  own  home — it  might  be  different  at  Ravens- 
mere,  where  he  would  be  alone  with  her;  he  might 
learn  to  care  for  her  then. 

"You  look  pleased  at  the  idea  of  going,"  he  said, 
briefly. 


94 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  am  pleasecj,"  she  replied.    "Are  you  not?" 

"No.  I  like  Ravensmere;  but  it  is  very  dull.  It 
is  suitable  for  what  people  call  lovers  of  nature — the 
scenery  around  it  is  among  the  finest  in  England;  but 
*:  am  always  dull  there/' 

"We  must  hope  it  will  be  different  now,"  she  said, 
:imidly. 

He  thought  she  meant  because  of  the  increase  in 
\is  prosperity.  She  meant  because  she  would  be  there, 
md  would  try  to  amuse  him. 

"I  do  not  know,"  he  said.  "I  fancy  it  will  be  pretty 
much  the  same." 

She  turned  away,  wounded  by  his  coldness.  Long 
after  everyone  else  was  asleep  she  remembered  words 
that  seemed  to  illustrate  her  fate: 

"I  alone  awake — 
My  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  my  heart  of  love; 
My  heart  is  breaking,  and  my  eyes  are  dim, 
And  I  am  all  aweary  of  my  life," 


CHAPTER  X 

"the  good  angel  of  the  house" 

It  was  a  chill  evening  at  the  end  of  October  when 
the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Caraven  reached  Ravens 
mere.  No  preparations  had  been  made  to  receive  and 
welcome  them.  There  was  no  gathering  of  tenantry 
The  earl's  tenants  simply  detested  the  sound  of  his 
name.  They  had  been  so  heavily  burdened,  so  taxed 
and  tormented  by  the  earl's  confidential  agent,  Mr. 
Blantyre,  that  they  had  no  welcome  left  for  his  mas- 
ter. They  considered  him  an  unjust  landlord,  and  they 
did  not  scruple  to  say  so.  There  were  no  glad  shouts 
of  welcome  for  him;  even  the  curly-headed  children 
had  heard  so  often  of  the  earl's  folly  and  neglect  that 
they  had  no  cheer  for  him  when  his  carriage  drove 
through  the  streets  of  Court  Raven.  Nor  was  there 
any  warm  welcome  from  the  servants.  They  were 
most  of  them  new  ones;  all  the  old  retainers  had  died 
off  or  gone  away,  the  earl  had  never  replaced  them. 
The  house  had  become  dilapidated;  the  servants  were 
few,  the  stables  empty. 

It  was  all  different  now — John  Blantyre  had  had 
carte  blanche.  The  interior  of  the  castle  had  been 
beautified,  decorated,  and  refurnished  •  well-trained 
servants  had  been  brought  from  London;  the  stables 
had  been  filled.    There  was  a  general  air  of  prosperity 

95 


96 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


about   the  place,  so  that  the .  earl  hardly  knew  it 

again. 

Did  Lord  Caraven  miss  the  welcome?  Did  he  see 
that  he  was  disliked  by  his  tenants — that  his  servants 
seemed  to  have  no  interest  in  him?  Did  it  strike  him 
that  a  life  of  self-indulgence  always  brings  its  own 
reward?  Lady  Caraven  gazed  with  wonder  at  the 
magnificent  home  which  was  to  be  hers.  The  first 
words  she  said  to  her  husband  were: 

"I  had  no  idea  that  Ravensmere  was  so  large." 

He  looked  half  incredulously  at  her. 
"Did  you  not  really  feel  interested  enough  in  the 
place  to  ask  about  it?"  he  inquired. 

"I  was  very  much  interested  in  i%"  she  replied, 
quietly,  "but  I  never  thought  of  asking  any  questions." 

"I  should  have  fancied  that  you  would  know  all 
about  it,"  he  said — "the  number  of  rooms  and  their 
contents.    I  am  surprised  that  you  do  not." 

She  did  not  in  the  least  understand  the  drift  of  his 
words.  That  he  should  ever  fancy  that  she  was  mer- 
cenary, that  she  wanted  the  full  value  for  all  the 
money  she  had  brought  him,  never  occurred  to  her. 

It  was  but  a  sorry  welcome  home.  The  earl  felt 
humiliated,  disgraced.  He  remembered  to  have  heard 
his  father  speak  of  the  rejoicings  when  he  had  brought 
his  young  wife  home — how  that  fair  bride,  his  mother, 
had  listened  with  tears  in  her  eyes  to  the  cheers  and 
cries  of  welcome — how  she  had  clasped  her  husband's 
hand,  saying,  "We  will  deal  with  them  as  we  wish 
heaven  to  deal  with  us."  Now  he  had  brought  his 
wife  home  and  not  a  cheer  was  raised  for  him;  thers 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM  97 

was  not  a  cry  of  welcome,  not  a  smile.  Strange  voices 
greeted  him,  strange  faces  surrounded  him.  His  wife 
iooKed  sad  and  wistful.  A  brilliant  fire  was  burning 
in  all  the  rooms,  while  a  chill,  gray  fog  hung  like  a 
pall  without,  but  the  bright  fires  and  the  bright  light 
could  not  give  warmth  to  their  reception. 

They  dined  together  almost  in  silence.  Lord  Cara- 
ven  did  not  tell  his  wife  what  a  comfort  he  felt  it  to 
see  the  family  plate  once  more  in  use.  Hildred  was 
slightly  overwhelmed  by  the  magnificence  of  every- 
thing around.  How  little  she  dreamed  that  her  fort- 
une had  preserved  the  grand  old  place  from  utter 
ruin — that  but  for  her  the  massive  plate,  the  beautiful 
pictures,  even  the  old  walls  themselves,  would  have 
passed  from  the  Caravens,  and  the  family  name  would 
have  been  written  in  the  dust! 

Perhaps  some  such  thought  occurred  to  him  as  he 
looked  at  the  sweet  face  before  him;  perhaps  that 
thought  made  him  feel  a  little  "more  kindly  toward 
Hildred. 

After  all  she  had  saved  him  from  ruin.  He  might 
think  what  he  would  of  her — she  was  a  money-lender's 
daughter — she  had  been  given  to  him  with  her  money 
in  exchange  for  his  title  and  position — her  father  was 
cunning,  shrewd,  and  mercenary,  unscrupulous  and 
ambitious — yet  she  had  certainly  saved  him  from  the 
blackest  ruin  that  could  fall  on  mortal  man.  It  made 
him  feel  a  little  more  kindly  toward  her,  but  he  did 
not  love  her — nothing  was  further  from  his  thoughts; 
still  he  remembered  that  but  for  her  he  would  never 
have  seen  Ravensmere  again. 


98  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

That  gave  him  the  idea  that  she,  too,  was  entitled 
to  some  consideration.  He  had  told  her  father  frankly 
enough  that  he  should  never  like  her,  and  he  knew 
that  he  never  should.  But  the  money  she  had  brought 
him  had  saved  him  from  ruin.  He  ought  to  study 
her  comfort  and  be  grateful  to  her.  After  dinner  was 
over,  instead  of  lingering  over  his  claret,  he  joined 
her  in  the  drawing-room. 

"I  have  been  thinking,"  he  began,  "that  you  would 
like  to  see  the  house;  some  of  the  rooms  are  very 
handsome,  some  of  the  pictures  very  fine." 

"I  should  be  very  pleased,"  she  said,  gently. 

"I  have  been  thinking,  too,  that  you  ought  to  have 
your  choice  of  rooms.  My  mother  used  a  very  beau- 
tiful suite  in  the  western  wing.  You  shall  see  them 
all  and  judge  for  yourself." 

"I  should  not  like  them  to  be  very  far  away  from 
the  rest  of  the  household,"  she  said. 

1  Do  you  believe  in  the  Ravensmere  ghosts? "  he 
asked,  laughingly. 

"I  have  never  heard  of  them.  But  in  a  large  house 
like  this  I  should  not  care  to  feel  that  I  was  quite 
alone." 

"You  shall  choose  for  yourself,"  he  said,  briefly. 

Perhaps  the  hour  that  followed  was  the  happiest 
Hildred  had  known  since  her  marriage.  At  the  Hotel 
Meurice,  although  he  had  been  cafeful  to  show  her 
every  kindness,  he  had  not  thought  of  her  or  studied 
her.  At  Ravensmere  it  was  quite  different.  The 
servants,  he  knew,  would  watch  him  closely,  and 
would  make  their  own  comments  on  his  behavior; 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


99 


and,  if  they  saw  that  he  slighted  his  wife,  they  would 
imitate  his  example  quickly  enough.  That  he  would 
not  allow.  She  was  only  a  money-lender's  daughter 
— a  woman  he  could  never  like — but  she  had  saved 
him  from  ruin;  she  should  at  least  be  respected. 

So  he  talked  to  her,  and  showed  her  the  various  art 
treasures,  the  costly  pictures,  the  statues,  the  ancient 
armor.  She  was  pleased  and  bright  and  interested  in 
all  he  said.  He  showed  her  the  library,  where  the 
accumulated  treasures  of  so  many  scholars  lay.  When 
she  had  seen  and  admired  all,  he  said  to  her: 

"If  ■  all  this  were  on  the  verge  of  destruction,  and 
one  woman  came  forward  to  save  it,  what  would  you 
call  her?" 

"I  should  call  her  the  good  angel  of  the  house," 
she  replied,  not  having  the  least  idea  that  he  was 
referring  to  her. 

He  bowed  to  her. 

"That  shall  be  my  name  for  you,"  he  said.  "You 
^hall  be  the  good  angel  of  the  house." 

She  had  chosen  her  rooms  in  the  western  wing — 
rooms  that  opened  on  to  a  broad,  beautiful  terrace~ 
from  the  windows  of  which  one  saw  pleasant  glimpses 
of  garden  and  distant  landscape.  The  housekeeper, 
Mrs.  Hampton,  showed  her  over  the  whole  suite.  Lady 
Caraven  preferred  these. 

"You  will  be  lonely,  my  lady,"  she  said;  "most  of 
the  Ladies  Caraven  have  preferred  the  eastern  wing." 

Hildred  thought  to  herself  that  there  had  never  been 
another  Lady  Caraven  like  her.  She  had  been  mar- 
ried— so  it  seemed  from  the  words  her  husband  had 


lOO 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


just  spoken — for  her  money;  she  was  not  there  be- 
cause she  was  beloved  by  the  master  of  the  house,  but 
simply  as  an  appendage  of  her  money.  It  mattered 
but  little  what  rooms  she  chose;  she  did  not  at  pres- 
ent even  feel  so  much  at  home  as  did  the  servants  in 
the  house. 

"Your  ladyship  has  decided  then  on  this  suite?"  said 
the  housekeeper. 

Lady  Caraven  did  not  even  hear  her;  she  was  look- 
ing sadly  round  the  rooms.  How  many  years  would 
this  be  her  home?  How  many  long,  weary  hours  of 
suspense  and  pain  would  she  pass  here?  Would  she 
soon  tire  of  this  gilded  splendor?  She  would  be 
always  alone — her  rooms  always  silent  and  desolate; 
no  loving  face  would  brighten  them,  no  glad  voices 
cheer  them.  Alone  all  her  life!  No  wonder  that  she 
turned  with  a  sigh  from  the  flower-wreathed  window. 

The  housekeeper  looked  curiously  at  the  young  face 
with  the  sad,  sweet  eyes. 

"You  have  decided,  my  lady,  upon  these  rooms?" 
she  repeated. 

"Yes,"  said  the  young  countess;  "I  prefer  them  to 
any  others.  And  I  will  remain  here  now  while  my 
boxes  are  unpacked.    I  will  not  go  down  again." 

Mrs.  Hampton  thought  her  decision  strange,  in- 
deed; it  was  the  young  wife's  first  evening  in  her  hus- 
band's home,  yet  she  preferred  remaining  alone  in 
her  rooms  while  he  was  alone  downstairs. 

"Shall  I  take  that  message  to  the  earl?"  she  asked. 

Lady  Caraven  looked  up  in  some  surprise. 

"Oh,  no!"  she  replied.  "Lord  Caraven  will  not 
expect  me." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


IOI 


And  the  housekeeper,  who  was  a  shrewd  woman  in 
her  way,  thought  that  it  seemed  a  strange  kind  of 
marriage  where  husband  and  wife  preferred  solitude 
to  each  other's  society- 


CHAPTER  ai 


"marriage  is  a  mistake  at  the  best* 

"We  have  some  visitors  coming  to-day,"  said  the 
Earl  of  Caraven  to  his  young  wife.  "The  dinner  will 
be  an  hour  later,  and  rooms  must  be  prepared.  .Sir 
Charles  and  Lady  Courtenay  live  at  some  little  dis- 
tance— they  will  not  arrive  until  late." 

"Do  you  mean,"  she  said,  "that  I  am  to  arrange  for 
your  guests — for  their  wants  and  comfort?" 

"What  terribly  straightforward  questions  you  ask!" 
he  replied,  laughingly.  "You  are  sole  mistress  of  the 
house — you  must  give  all  orders  in  it." 

"I  have  not  learned  to  think  of  myself  yet  as  mis- 
tress of  this  house,"  she  rejoined,  with  proud  coni- 
posure. 

"Then  I  must  ask  you  to  began,"  he  said.  "You  are, 
indeed,  sole  mistress  of  this  house;  everyone  in  it  is 
bound  to  obey  you — whatever  you  direct  is  to  be 
done." 

"But,"  returned  Hildred,  4,yesterclay  when  I  went 
into  the  housekeeper's  room,  she  did  not  seem  inclined 
to  submit  to  my  authority  at  all.  She  said  that  her 
keys  were  mislaid  when  I  wanted  to  look  over  the 
linen-press.  I  fancy  that  she  thinks  I  am  rather  too 
young  to  hold  much  authority." 

"T  will  soon  settle  that  matter,"  said  the  earl. 
102 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


I03 


He  rang  the  bell,  and  in  answer  to  his  summons  a 
servant  came.  He  sent  for  the  housekeeper,  who 
looked  slightly  troubled  at  the  unexpected  call. 

"Mrs.  Hampton,"  said  the  earl,  sternly,  "I  have 
sent  for  you  to  say  that  every  order  given  by  Lady 
Caraven  is  to  be  attended  to  instantly — that  she  is  to 
be  obeyed  implicitly,  as  I  am  obeyed  myself — that 
the  least  show  of  disrespect  or  disobedience  will  be 
punished  by  immediate  dismissal.  You  will  see  that 
my  commands  are  carried  out." 

"I  will  do  so,  my  lord." 

"You  will  go  for  the  future  to  Lady  Caraven  for  all 
your  orders — you  will  take  them  only  from- her. " 

"Thank  you,  my  lord,"  said  the  housekeeper,  retir- 
ing with  a  sense  of  relief. 

Hildred  turned  to  her  husband. 

"And  I  thank  you,  too,"  she  said  calmly.  "I  should 
not  have  spoken  but  that  I  saw  there  was  a  disposi- 
tion in  the  house  to  ignore  my  authority — I  knew  that 
you  would  not  like  that." 

"Certainly  not — you  have  done  quite  right,"  he  told 
her — and  a  sudden  sense  of  her  cruel  position  came 
over  him.  Was  it  likely  that  the  servants  would  show 
much  respect  to  one  who,  they  could  plainly  see,  was 
an  unloved  wife? 

He  quitted  the  breakfast-room  not  quite  satisfied 
with  himself  and  not  satisfied  with  her. 

"Marriage  is  a  mistake  at  the  best  of  times,"  he 
said,  "but  marriage  for  money  is  the  greatest  mistake 
of  all." 

Evening  came  and  brought  the  expected  guests — 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Sir  Charles  Courtenay,  a  young  baronet,  who  had  but 
one  idea,  and  that  was  love  for  his  wife,  Lady  Alice 
Courtenay,  who  was  pretty,  lively,  and  accomplished. 
Hildred  liked  her  at  once.  Her  face  was  sunny  and 
fair,  but  laughing  eyes  and  sweet  lips  made  a  very 
attractive  picture.  Hildred  looked  at  her  with  some- 
thing like  envy.  She  was  charmingly  dressed,  and 
had  a  bright  expression  of  countenance. 

That  evening,  when  Lady  Caraven  was  dressing  for 
dinner,  her  faithful  maid  could  hardly  be  satisfied; 
she  brought  out  jewels,  flowers,  ornaments  of  all  kinds. 

"Do  wear  them,  my  lady,"  she  said;  "if  you  would 
but  let  me  help  you  more  in  your  toilets.  Lady 
Courtenay  is  so  beautifully  dressed — do  not  let  her 
have  all  the  admiration." 

The  girl  had  grown  so  sorry  for  her  young  mistress 
that  she  sometimes  ventured  to  speak  familiarly  to  her. 

Hildred  sat  listlessly  before  the  toilet-table;  neither 
jewels,  flowers  nor  dresses  had  the  least  interest  for 
her. 

"I  think  it  is  very  probable  that  all  the  admiration 
will  fall  to  her  lot  whether  I  take  pains  with  my  dress 
or  not,"  she  said,  musingly. 

"My  lady,"  returned  the  girl,  earnestly,  "you  do  not 
know  how  beautiful  you  are — you  do  not,  indeed.  If 
you  would  but  take  some  little  interest-^-you  have  a 
lovely  figure  and  beautiful  hair — if  you  would  but  care 
a  little  more!" 

Lady  Caraven  laughed  good-temperedly ;  the  girl's 
admiration  was  so  sincere  that  she  could  not  be  angry. 

"I  will  care  more,"  she  said,  making  a  desparate 
effort  to  rouse  herself.    "What  am  I  to  do?" 


FROM   OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Amiee  was  all  animation.  She  brought  out  a  beau- 
tiful dinner  dress — a  dress  that  looked  like  a  soft 
black  cloud  tinged  with  golden  light. 

"Amber  and  black!"  said  Lady  Caraven.  "Surely 
I  am  dark  enough,  Amiee.  Lord  Caraven  likes  every- 
thing about  him  bright  and  fair.  I  should  wear  some- 
thing lighter  if  I  mean  to  please  him." 

"You  promised,  my  lady,  that  I  should  dress  you 
as  I  liked  to-day. ,; 

"It  does  not  matter,"  she  said,  indifferently;  and 
so  the  amber  and  black  was  worn. 

Nothing  could  have  suited  her  better.  The  low 
dinner  dress  showed  die  exquisitely-molded  neck  and 
shoulders,  the  rounded  arms;  it  displayed  the  beau- 
tiful contour  of  a  figure  tall  and  graceful.  The  mass 
of  dark,  waving  hair  was  arranged  in  thick,  shining 
coils,  fastened  with  a  diamond  arrow;  one  dark  crimson 
flower  lay  in  their  depths.  A  pearl  necklace  was 
clasped  round  the  graceful  throat,  a  bracelet  round  one 
of  the  dimpled  arms. 

Amiee's  pride  was  great.  There  might  be  a  thou- 
sand ladies  present — none  would  be  so  beautiful  as 
hers. 

Lady  Courtenay  looked  up  in  wonder  as  her  lovely 
young  hostess  entered  the  drawing-room.  She  turned 
to  the  earl,  with  whom  she  was  most  intimate — -they 
had  played  together  when  children. 

"How  falsely  people  speak!  "  she  said.  "I  heard 
that  you  had  married  a  great  heiress,  but  that  she  was 
quite  a  plain  little  school-girl.  I  must  congratulate 
von  on  the  rare  beauty  of  your  wife," 


io6 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Little  she  certainly  is  not,"  returned  the  earl, 
laughingly;  "my — my  wife  is  tall,  I  consider." 

"And  she  is  beautiful!"  said  Lady  Courtenay.  "She 
looks  like  a  Spanish  princess.  You  do  not  often  see 
faces  like  hers  in  England— we  are  all  red  and  white." 

"So  you  ought  to  be,"  he  replied;  "I  can  as  soon 
imagine  a  dark  angel  as  admire  a  dark  woman." 

"You  retain  your  old  love  for  the  blondes,"  said 
Lady  Courtenay.  "I  am  a  far  better  judge,  and  I 
tell  you  that  the  fair  pink-and-white  faces  of  most 
English  women  would  pale  into  insignificance  before 
the  rich  bloom,  the  exquisite  coloring,  the  dark,  lus- 
trous eyes  of  your  wife." 

"I  really  ought  to  thank  you  in  her  name,"  he 
responded. 

"You  ought  to  love  her  very  much,  for  she  is  worth 
loving,"  said  Lady  Courtenay,  frankly. 

"Has  anyone  told  you  that  I  do  not  love  her?"  he 
asked. 

"No;  certainly  not;  but,  though  she  is  so  beautiful, 
she  does  not  look  happy.  Her  eyes  ought  to  be  filled 
with  sunshine — they  are  sad  and  dreary.  It  is  not  a 
happy  face,  Lord  Caraven. " 

But  he  had  heard  quite  enough  of  the  topic — his 
wife's  face  did  not  interest  him.  He  looked  at  her 
with  some  curiosity  after  Lady  Courtenay  had  spoken, 
and  for  the  first  time  he  was  impressed  with  her  grow- 
ing beauty. 

"Lady  Alice  has  rightly  described  her,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "She  is  like  a  Spanish  princess.  She  would 
be  perfect  if  she  had  a  mantilla  and  a  fan." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


I07 


Then  he  forgot  all  about  it,  and  was  soon  busy  talk- 
ing over  old  Oxford  days  with  Sir  Charles. 

It  was  not  a  happy  face.  Hildred  took  her  place  at 
the  brilliantly-appointed  table.  She  was  perfectly 
calm  and  self-possessed.  In  her  thoughtful  consider- 
ation for  others  she  made  an  admirable  hostess;  her 
tact  and  graciousness  were  beyond  all  praise.  But 
hers  was  not  a  happy  face.  She  did  not  voluntarily 
join  in  the  conversation — with  a  quick,  flashing  smile 
she  answered  when  she  was  spoken  to,  but  she  seldom 
volunteered  a  remark.  When  she  was  not  speaking — 
when  her  face  was  in  repose — there  came  over  it  an 
air  of  dreamy  languor,  of  sadness,  of  thought,  painful 
to  see  in  one  so  young. 

"What  can  be  wrong  here?"  thought  Lady  Courte- 
nay.  "There  is  plenty  of  money;  they  are  both  young, 
both  handsome — Saxon  beauty  and  Spanish — why  are 
they  not  happy?" — for  among  all  other  gossip,  she 
had  not  heard  the  fact  that  Lord  Caraven  had  married 
for  money,  and  not  for  love. 

It  was  a  pleasant  evening.  The  earl  found  out 
another  accomplishment  of  his  wife's — she  was  an 
almost  perfect  musician;  she  sang  like  one  inspired. 
The  love,  the  passion,  the  tenderness,  that  found  no 
vent  in  her  ordinary  life,  found  vent  in  song.  The 
rich,  low,  contralto  voice  was  more  beautiful  than  any- 
thing he  had  ever  heard.  She  sang  like  one  whose 
whole  soul  is  tuned  to  song.  She  had  set  to  sweet, 
sad  music,  the  poet's  passionate  words: 

"'O  cruel  love!'  —  she  changed  her  tone — 
(0  cruel  love,  whose  end  is  scorn! 


io8 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Is  this  the  end,  to  be  left  alone, 
To  live  forgotten,  and  die  forlorn?'" 

She  sang  them  with  such  sweet  pathos.  It  was  of 
herself  she  was  thinking.  Who  was  more  forlorn  than 
she — who  more  neglected? 

"'O  cruel  love,  whose  end  is  scorn!'" 

"What  charming  music!"  said  Lady  Courtenay. 
"Whose  is  it?  I  do  not  remember  to  have  heard  it 
before,  and  I  am  familiar  with  most  modern  songs — 
whose  is  it?" 

"My  own,"  replied  Hildred.  "Whenever words  please 
me  very  much,  they  always  set  themselves  to  music  in 
my  own  mind." 

"The  words  are  so  sad — 'To  live  forgotten,  and  die 
forlorn !'   How  can  they  please  one  so  young  as  you?" 

"It  is  the  fate  of  many,"  said  Hildred,  slowly. 

"It  may  be,  but  it  will  never  be  yours — you,  Count- 
ess of  Caraven,  young,  gifted,  beloved." 

"There  are  many  ways  of  dying,"  said  Hildred. 
"It  is  more  bitter  than  death  to  some  to  live  without 
love;  yet  many  live  without  it." 

"You  have  strange  thoughts  for  one  of  your  age. 
I  should  have  imagined  that  dresses  and  jewels,  balls 
and  dances,  would  have  been  in  your  thoughts  rather 
than  sad  ideas  of  life  and  love." 

"Should  you?  I  like  balls  and  dances  very  much," 
said  Hildred,  trying  to  speak  lightly — she  had  no 
great  desire  to  reveal  to  a  stranger  the  secrets  of  her 
life  and  heart. 

"You  never  told  me,  "said  Lord  Caraven  to  his  wife, 
"that  you  could  sing  so  beautifully." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


tog 


"Did  I  not?  Perhaps  you  never  asked  me  if  I  could 
sing  at  all." 

"I  do  not  remember  doing  so,"  he  said.  "Have  you 
any  more  such  surprises?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  brightly. 

"You  seemed  half-horrified  when  I  told  that  I  could 
speak  German,"  she  said.  "I  was  afraid  that  you 
considered  accomplishments  something  to  be  con- 
cealed.   I  shall  never  tell  you  any  of  mine." 

With  a  glance  half-laughing,  half-haughty,  she  took 
up  the  sheet  of  music  and  crossed  the  room.  Lady 
Courtenay  looked  curiously  into  the  face  of  the  earl. 

"Had  you  never  heard  your  wife  sing,  really?"  she 
asked. 

"No,  I  had  not,  indeed,"  he  replied. 

"If  I  were  a  man  and  had  wooed  so  sweet  a  song- 
stress, I  should  have  spent  long  hours  over  the  piano," 
she  said.  "I  thought  you  always  liked  music  so  much?" 

"So  I  do.  But  I  did  not  even  know  my  wife  could 
sing;  she  makes  no  parade  of  her  talent." 

"No,"  said  Lady  Courtenay  to  herself,  "nor  do  I 
think  that  you  have  made  any  great  parade  of  your 
love." 

But  she  said  no  more — the  subject  was  evidently 
not  pleasing  to  the  earl. 


CHAPTER  XII 


"FATE  IS  WHAT  PEOPLE  MAKE  IT — I  WILL  MAKE  MINE" 

A  beautiful  evening  in  October;  it  was  as  though 
some  of  the  warmth  and  sweetness  of  summer  had 
returned  for  a  while.  The  sky  was  blue,  the  colors 
of  the  sunset  were  gorgeous,  the  foliage  of  the  trees 
was  magnificent;  autumn  flowers  were  blooming, 
autumn  tints  were  over  the  land.  The  day  had  been 
unusually  warm  and  sunny.  Lord  Caraven  had  invited 
some  friends  to  dinner;  as  they  lived  at  some  little 
distance,  and  they  could  not  remain  for  the  night, 
dinner  was  ordered  earlier  than  usual.  It  was  only 
twilight  when  the  guests  drove  away,  and  Lord  Cara- 
ven, having  no  one  to  play  at  billiards  with  him, 
sauntered  restlessly  through  the  rooms,  thinking  to 
himself  how  foolish  he  had  been  not  to  provide  him- 
self with  a  companion  for  that  most  interesting  of  all 
games. 

'I  must  not  let  this  happen  again,"  he  said.  "To 
live  here  alone  requires  more  strength  of  mind  than  I 
am  possessed  of." 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  he  was  not  alone — that 
he  had  a  fair  young  wife  near  him.  He  never  thought 
of  her  at  all.  He  would  not  have  remembered  her 
existence  but  that,  wandering  aimlessly  along  the 
terrace,  he  saw  her  in  the  drawing-room. 

110 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


III 


He  almost  owned  to  himself  that  there  could  not 
have  been  a  lovelier  picture.  Wishing  to  finish  some- 
thing she  was  reading,  she  had  brought  her  book  to 
the  window  and  crouched  down  where  the  light  fell. 
He  saw  a  fair,  flower-like  face,  a  shining  wealth  of 
dark  hair  in  which  lay  gleaming  pearls,  a  flowing 
mass  of  purple  velvet  upon  which  the  white  arms 
shone  like  snow  on  a  purple  crocus :  the  lovely  figure, 
the  graceful  attitude,  the  picturesque  dress,  cut  square 
in  the  front,  leaving  the  white  neck  bare,  the  wide 
hanging  sleeves,  the  slender  white  hands — all  made 
a  picture  that  he  must  have  admired  had  the  subject 
been  any  other  than  the  money-lender's  daughter. 

Seeing  her,  he  thought  it  was  possible  she  under- 
stood something  of  billiards  although  "women  never 
knew  anything  useful."  She  saw  him,  and  fancying 
from  his  manner  that  he  wished  to  speak  to  her,  she 
opened  the  window  and  went  out  to  him. 

"You  will  be  cold,"  he  said,  with  unusual  thought- 
fulness. 

She  went  back  to  the  drawing-room  in  search  of  a 
silvery  scarf  that  she  used.  She  threw  it  carelessly 
over  her  head  and  shoulders,  where  it  looked  so  pict- 
uresque, and  became  her  so  well  that  he  could  not 
help  noticing  it. 

"This  is  dull  work,  being  here  alone,"  he  said. 

"It  is  dull  for  bpth  of  us,"  she  replied  briefly. 

"Ah,  yes!  Do  you  know  I  had  quite  forgotten  you 
were  alone  as  well.  You  must  find  it  dull  too.  We 
will  ask  some  nice  people  down  at  once;  this  kind  of 
thing  will  never  do.  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  do  you 
know  anything  of  billiards?" 


112 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Billiards? M  she  repeated,  wonderingly. 

"Yes — many  ladies  play  remarkably  well.  Lady 
Courtenay  does*    It  is  such  a  great  resource." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  play  with  you?"  she  asked, 
quickly. 

"Yes;  I  am  bored  to  death.  I  am  tired  of  smok- 
ing, I  never  read  much,  and  there  is  nothing  to  do!" 

"Extraordinary,"  she  cried — "nothing  to  do!" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked. 

"I  mean  nothing.  I  am  very  sorry.  I  have  seen  a 
billiard-table;  but  I  have  never  played.  I  will  try  to 
learn,  if  you  like."  ' 

"Beginners  are  generally  very  awkward,"  he  said, 
frankly.  "I  cannot  think  how  it  is  that  I  have  forgot- 
ten to  ask  anyone  over.  I  must  not  be  so  remiss 
again." 

"Do  you  never  amuse  yourself?"  she  asked. 

"No.  How  can  I?  I  am  essentially  a  sociable 
being.    I  feel  little  interest  in  myself.* 

"You  would  rather  be  amused  than  interested?" 
she  asked. 

He  thought  for  half  a  minute  before  he  answered. 

"I  see,"  he  said.  "Yes,  I  prefer  amusement  to 
anything  else." 

"It  is  a  great  pity  that  you  cannot  imitate  the  kings 
of  old,  and  keep  a  court  jester  with   cap   and  bells." 

Lord  Caraven  looked  at  her.  It  could  not  surely 
be  possible  that  this  wife  of  his,  this  money-lender's 
daughter,  was    presuming  to  be  satirical  with  him. 

They  walked  down  the  terrace  until  they  reached  a 
rustic  garden  seat,  and,  with  an  air  of  utter  exhaustion, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"3 


the  earl  sat  down.  Hildred  took  her  seat,  unasked, 
by  his  side. 

The  night  wind  was  sweeping  round  them,  bending 
the  tall  chrysanthemums,  stirring  the  dying  leaves — a 
sweet,  fresh  wind  that  was  as  odorous  as  balm.  The 
twilight  was  fast  fading,  the  birds  had  long  since 
ceased  to  sing,  there  was  a  pleasant,  brooding  sense 
of  rest  and  of  freshness. 

"This  is  almost  as  good  as  a  billiard  table/'  said 
Hildred,  laughingly;  but  the  earl  shook  his  head. 

"It  may  be  for  you,"  he  replied,  "but  it  is  not  for 
me." 

"Lord  Caraven,"  said  Hildred,  "a  thought  has  just 
struck  me.  We  have  been  married — how  long?  since 
the  third  of  August,  and  it  is  now  October;  and  do 
you  know  that  you  have  never  once  addressed  me  by 
name?  My  schoolfellows  used  to  call  me  fDreda/  my 
father  calls  me  Mildred.'  You  have  so  contrived  as 
never  to  give  me  any  name  at  all.  You  do  not  say 
'Lady  Caraven,'  'Hildred,'  'wife,'  or  anything  of  the 
kind.     How  is  it?" 

"I  cannot  tell,"  he  replied,  blankly.  The  question 
had  evidently  puzzled  him. 

"I  do  not  expect  you  would  ever  care  to  use  any 
pretty,  familiar,  loving  name;  but  do  you  not  think  you 
might  learn  to  use  my  own?  Lady  Courtenay  used  to 
look  at  me,  when  you  addressed  me  in  that  general 
kind  of  way  as  'you.'    Could  you  not  say  'Hildred?'" 

"I — I  really  do  not  know,"  he  replied,  "it  is  an 
uncomfortable  kind  of  name — 'Hildred.'" 

She  raised  her  charming  head  with  a  haughty  little 
gesture. 


H4 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM  * 


"Do  you  fancy  so?    I  think  you  do  not  know  what 

'uncomfortable'  means.  I  am  rather  proud  of  my  name; 
it  may  be  quaint,  but  it  is  not  common.  If  you  can- 
not say  'Mildred,'  can  you  not  call  me  'Lady  Cara- 
ven?' I  am  tired  of  being  spoken  to  so  vaguely." 

"I  will  not  do  it  again,  Lady  Caraven,  if  it  annoys 
you,"  he  said;  and  then  there  was  silence  between 
them,  broken  only  by  the  sighing  of  the  wind. 

Would  he  let  this  hour  pass  without  speaking  freely 
to  her?  They  were  alone  now — there  was  no  one  to 
listen.  Surely  he  would  break  the  ice  of  reserve  that 
was  between  them;  surely  he  would  say  something  to 
her  at  last.  This  unnatural  state  of  things  could  not 
last  much  longer.  Sitting  there  side  by  side,  husband 
and  wife,  they  were  as  strangers,  with  a  great  cloud 
between  them.  Would  he  speak  to  her  now?  Would 
he  tell  her  why  he  was  cold  and  reserved — why  he 
never  talked  to  her — why  his  wife  was  almost  less 
than  nothing  to  him?  She  could  see  no  fairer  chance 
than  this.  She  raised  her  face,  all  bright  with  play  of 
feeling,  to  his. 

"Lord  Caraven,"  she  said,  "will  you  be  very  angry 
with  me  if  I  ask  you  a  question?" 

"No;  without  knowing  what  the  question  may  be, 
I  predict  that — certainly  not." 

"This  question  has  troubled  me  very  much;  it  has 
been  the  one  thing  which  I  have  pondered  night  and 
day — a  question  I  cannot  answer,  one  that  I  feel  is  the 
key  to  a  secret." 

"You  alarm  me  with  that  long  prologue.  Briefly, 
what  is  your  question,  Lady  Caraven?" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"5 


"Briefly,  it  is  this:  Why  did  you  marry  me,  Lord 
Caraven?" 

"Why  did  I  marry  you?"  he  echoed,  with  astonish- 
ment. 

"I  ask  you  the  question,"  she  went  on,  "because  I 
have  watched  you  and  studied  you,  and  I  am  con- 
vinced at  last  that  you  did  not  marry  me  for  love." 

"Love!"  he  cried.  "Why,  what  has  that  to  do  with 
it?" 

'I  thought,"  she  continued,  "that  you  had  married 
me  because  you  loved  me.  I  knew  that  you  were  cold, 
undemonstrative,  that  you  had  no  sympathy,  little 
kindness;  but  I  believed  implicitly  that  you  married 
me  for  love." 

"I  had  never  seen  you — I  saw  you  only  once,"  he 
said,  in  astonishment. 

"I  know,  I  remember.  Still,  I  repeat  what  I  have 
said  to  you;  I— I  fancied — I  am  quite  ashamed  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  but  I  will  do  so — I  fancied  you  had 
seen  me  somewhere  and  had  liked  me." 

He  laughed,  but  the  laugh  was  not  pleasant  to  hear. 

"Did  yc-u  really  think  that?"  he  asked,  musingly. 
"Poor  child!"  Then  he  turned  to  her  with  sudden 
briskness.  "Do  you  really  mean  to  tell  me,  on  your 
word  of  honor,  that  you  do  not  know  why  I  married 
you?  " 

IShe  raised  her  fair,  proud  face  to  his. 
"I  assure  you  most  solemnly  that  I  do  not.    It  is 
the  greatest  puzzle  I  have  ever  had." 

"Did  your  father  tell  you  that  I — I  loved  you?'* 
"No,"  she  replied,  thoughtfully,  "he  did  not.  Indeed 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


he  assured  me  that  love  was  not  needful  for  happi- 
ness. He  never  said  you  loved  me — he  said  you  wanted 
to  marry  me." 

"And  what  else?    Go  on.    What  else?" 

"That  it  was  a  grand'  position,  in  which  I  should  be 
supremely  happy." 

"What  else?"  asked  the  stern  voice. 

"I  hardly  remember.  That  if  I  consented  his  high- 
est ambition  would  be  gratified." 

Lord  Caraven  murmured  some  terrible  words  be- 
tween his  closed  lips. 

"Then  he  never  told  you  why  this  marriage  was 
forced  upon  me?" 

"Forced?"  she  interrogated,  gently. 

Perhaps  the  sudden  paling  of  her  lovely  face  startled 
him,  or  the  sharp  quiver  of  pain  in  her  voice  touched 
him. 

"He — your  father — never  told  you  that  he  insisted 
on  the  marriage?" 

"No,  never,"  she  replied,  faintly. 

"He  never  told  you  that  he  made  it  my  only  refuge 
from  him — my  only  hope — my  only  alternative?" 

"No;  he  never  told  me  that." 

"Then  I  will  tell  you  now.  He  compelled  me  to 
marry  you — and  I  begin  to  perceive  that  he  has  sacri- 
ficed you  as  well  as  myself  "  • 

"Sacrificed  us?"  she  repeated.  "You  cannot  mean 
the  word! " 

"I  do  mean  it,  both  for  myself  and  you,"  he  replied. 
"I  will  tell  you, Lady  Caraven;  it  is  right  that  you  should 
know  the  truth.  I  have  been  a  spendthrift  and  a  prodi- 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


117 


gal.  I  have  squandered  a  large  fortune  and  was  deeply 
in  debt.  I  owed  your  father  the  sum  of  sixty  thou- 
sand pounds — I  had  mortgaged  Ravensmere  to  him. 
I  was  also  deeply  in  debt  to  others.  I  had  literally 
come  to  my  last  shilling;  disgrace,  ruin,  poverty  and 
shame  were  all  before  me.  Your  father  had  the  man- 
agement of  my  affairs,  and  when  I  asked  him  what  I 
was.  to  do,  he  told  me  that  he  had  two  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds  and  a  daughter." 

A  low  cry  came  from  her  lips,  and  she  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands. 

"I  am  sorry  tc  pain  you,"  he  said — "sorry  to  dis- 
tress you— but  it  is  better  that  you  should  know  the 
real  truth.  Your  father  is  ambitious;  his  hopes  were 
fixed  on  your  marriage.  He  offered  me  the  alternative 
— I  could  choose  beggary,  ruin,  shame,  disgrace,  the, 
total  annihilation  of  my  house  and  name,  or  I  could 
choose  the  money  and  marry  you.  I  told  him  that  I 
did  not  feel  inclined  to  marry,  that  I  had  no  affection 
for  you,  and  I  implored  him  to  find  some  other  way 
out  of  the  difficulty.  He  refused,  and  you  know  the 
result.  Bear  in  mind,  though,  that  I  am  most  deeply 
grateful  to  you.  Your  fortune  has  saved  me  from 
worse  than  death.  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  this  story; 
but  it  is  best  that  you  should  know  the  truth. " 

"Yes,"  she  agreed,  despairingly,  "it  is  best." 

She  drew  her  hands  from  her  face  and  looked  at 
him.  What  nature  of  man  could  he  have  been  that 
the  anguish  and  despair  on  that  girlish  face  did  not 
touch  him? 

"Then  you  have  never  loved  me,  never  cared  for 
me?"  she  said,  faintly. 


ii8 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"No.    I  am  grateful  to  you;  I  can  say  no  more." 

The  words  that  had  haunted  her  came  back  to  her — 
"Let  me  die!" 

He  saw  her  draw  the  silvery  shawl  round  her  shoul- 
ders and  shudder  as  though  she  were  seized  with  vio- 
lent cold. 

"I  feel  now,"  he  said,  "that  it  was  a  cruel  thing  to 
do.  You  are  young,  and  your  whole  life  is  blighted. 
At  first  I  thought  and  believed  that  you  understood 
everything — that  you  were  as  mercenary  and  ambitious 
as  your  father — that  you  were  as  ready  as  he  to  give 
yourself  and  your  money  in  exchange  for  my  title;  I 
thought  that  you,  through  him,  knew  the  full  value  of 
the  estate  and  everything  on  it — that  you  knew  all  the 
house  contained — that  you  were  as  keen  and  shrewd 
as  he  was.  I  misjudged  you — I  beg  your  pardon  for 
it." 

She  raised  her  pale  face  to  his. 

"I  swear  to  you,"  she  said,  "that  I  would  rather 
have  died  than  have  married  you  had  I  known  the 
truth." 

"I  believe  it,  and  respect  you  for  it.  For  some 
short  time  past  I  have  fancied  that  in  thinking  as  I 
did  I  was  mistaken.  Now  I  know  it,  and  am  glad  to 
know  it.    I  am  sorry  that  you  were  sacrificed  to  me." 

"Did  you — do  you — pray  do  not  be  angry  with  me," 
she  said- — "did  you  love  anyone  else?" 

"I  have  been  among  fair  women  what  a  butterfly  is 
among  flowers,"  he  replied.  "I  have  loved,  not  one, 
but  a  hundred.  I  might  say  I  have  had  as  many  loves 
as  there  are  days  in  the  year. " 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"But  the  one  great  love  of  your  life — the  lo^r,  that 
is  given  only  once — have  you  given  that?"  sh&  as&ed. 

"I  understand.  You  ask  me,  in  fact,  if  I  hid  ever 
loved  anyone  sufficiently  to  ask  her  to  be  my  wife. 
No,  I  had  not.  My  loves  were  for  the  day,  not  for 
all  time.  I  have  never  asked  anyone  t<*  marry  me, 
for  the  simple,  all-sufficient  reason  that  i  have  never 
seen  anyone  whom  I  should  have  cared  to  marry." 

"And  are  you  very  unhappy  with  meW  she  asked, 
gently. 

"What  a  strange  question!  Unhappy?  Well,  no; 
I  cannot  quite  say  that.  I  am,  as  I  said  before,  grate- 
ful to  you;  and  now  that  1  find  you  have  been  victim- 
ized, I  am  sorry  for  you." 

"Do  not  be  shocked  if  I  ask  you  another  question," 
she  said,  with  down-dropped  eyes  and  flushing  cheeks. 
"Now  that  our  marriage  is  an  accomplished  fact,  do 
you  not  think  that  we  might  manage  to  make  the  best 
of  it — might,  try  to  forget  this  wretched  beginning? 
Could  you  never  care  even  ever  so  little  for  me?" 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully. 

"I  might  deceive  you — I  might  say  4Yes, '  and  play 
you  false;  but  I  will  not.  You  are  too  good  for  that. 
No,  not  in  the  sense  you  mean;  not  to  love  you  as  a 
man  should  love  his  wife — never!  You  forgive  me  if 
these  seem  hard  words — you  have  asked  me  for  them." 

"It  is  better  to  speak  frankly;  then  we  shall  both 
know  what  we  are  doing." 

She  dropped  the  silvery  veil  that  shrouded  her  head 
*nd  face. 

"Will  you  tell  me,"  she  asked,  meekly,  "why  you 


ISO 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


cannot  care  for  me?    Am  I  not  fair  enough  to  please 

you?  " 

"Yes,  you  are  fair  enough;  but  love  is  not  to  be 
taught  or  bought — it  comes  unperceived.  I  cannot 
express  myself  well  on  the  subject;  but  it  seems  to 
me  absurd  for  a  man  to  say  to  himself,  'It  is  my  duty 
to  fall  in  love  with  such  and  such  a  woman,  so  I  must 
do  it.'" 

"But  if  that  woman  were  his  wife?"  she  suggested, 
gently. 

"No  man  can  love  against  his  will,  wife  or  no 
wife,"  was  the  hasty  reply. 

"Then,  Lord  Caraven,  am  I  to  live  in  your  house 
always  an  unloved,  uncared-for  wife?"  she  asked. 

"The  fault  is  not  mine,"  he  replied.  "I  believed 
that  your  father  had  explained  to  you  that  the  whole 
affair  was — was  distasteful  to  me.  Believing  that,  I 
married  you;  now  that  I  have  found  out  my  mistake, 
I  pity  myself  and  I  pity  you,  Lady  Caraven.  I  de^ 
spise  myself  now  for  what  I  have  done.  If  I  had  to 
choose  again,  I  should  choose  disgrace  or  death." 

The  night  wind  sighed  around  them,  the  sunlight 
had  died  away,  the  moon  was  rising  in  the  sky. 

"I  am  grateful  to  you,"  he  continued.  "I  will  do 
all  I  can  to  show  my  gratitude;  you  are  and  shall  be 
mistress  of  the  whole  place.  It  is  yours  in  so  far  aa 
your  money  has  saved  it;  you  shall  have  every  desire 
of  your  heart,  every  wish  gratified.  Your  position 
is  one  of  the  highest  in  the  land;  you  shall  have 
everything  to  grace  it;  you  shall  have  entire  liberty; 
you  shall  invite  whom  you  like,  visit  whom  you  like, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


121 


you  shall  go  abroad  when  you  will  and  remain 
at  home  when  you  will.  You  shall  be  your  own 
mistress  in  every  respect.  I  will  always  see  that  every 
honor  is  paid  to  you." 

"In  short,"  she  said,  "you  will  give  me  everything 
but  love." 

"Well,  if  you  choose  to  put  it  in  that  light,  yes." 

"I  accept  the  terms,"  she  said,  gently.  "There  are 
many  women  who  have  to  find  the  happiness  of  their 
lives  in  the  fulfillment  of  duty;  I  must  do  the  same." 

"You  are  a  very  sensible  girl,"  commented  Lord 
Caraven;  "and  I  begin  to  think  it  is  all  for  the  best 
that  we  have  had  this  conversation." 

"I  am  sure  of  it;  it  will  prevent  my  idealizing  you 
in  any  kind  of  way,  and  I  shall  know  better  how  to 
understand  matters." 

She  raised  her  head  with  wondrous  grace. 

"It  would  be  very  strange,"  she  added,  "if  you  fell 
in  love  with  me,  after  all.  I  am  cold;  I  will  say 
good  evening.    Pleasant  reflections,  my  lord." 

He  saw  the  purple  velvet  and  silvery  veil  disappear 
among  the  trees. 

"It  is  a  thousand  pities  that  she  is  a  money-lender's 
daughter,"  he  said,  "and  a  thousand  pities  that  I  can- 
not love  her.  She  has  plenty  of  character,  and  she  is 
really  handsome,  although  she  is  not  my  style." 

Lady  Caraven  had  gone  to  her   rooms.    She  had 
felt  keen,  bitter  shame  while  the  revelation  was  made. 
That  had  passed  away.    After  all,  she  was  blameless. 
One  man  had  been  a  spendthrift,  the  other  was  ambi 
tious.    Between  them  she  was  a  helpless  victim.  She 


122 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


tried  to  consider  quite  calmly  what    she  should  do. 

Some  girls,  proudly  indignant,  would  have  left  the 
house;  others  would  have  retaliated  fiercely;  others 
have  grown  sullen  and  revengeful.  She  was  calm 
almost  to  heroism,  although  a  more  cruel  position 
could  not  have  been  imagined.  Even  his  open  con- 
fession that  he  could  never  care  for  her  had  not  quite 
destroyed  her  love.  He  was  very  frank — among  his 
sins  and  imperfections  deceit  certainly  could  not  be 
set  down.  Yet  how  different  it  all  was  from  what  she 
had  thought  it  would  be! 

"I  am  quite  sure  of  one  thing,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"It  is  almost  cruel  to  write  such  stories  as  the  histo- 
ries of  Lancelot  and  Elaine.  What  a  difference  between 
such  men  as  the  stainless  knight  and  my  husband ! 
There  are  women  living  as  fair,  as  tender,  as  lovely 
as  Elaine;  is  there  a  man  like  Lancelot — like  Lance- 
lot before  he  loved  'the  Queen?'  Ah,  me!  if  I  could 
have  had  such  love  as  his!     But  I  must  be  content." 

It  seemed  to  her  like  an  answer  to  an  unspoken 
prayer,  when  she  opened  a  book  and  saw  these  words 
of  Carlyle — "Say  unto  all  kinds  of  happiness,  lean  do 
without  thee.    With  self-renunciation  life  begins." 

That  was  to  her  new  life — self-renunciation  without 
happiness — life  all  duty,  with  no  reward  but  the 
knowledge  of  itself. 

"I  can  do  it,"  said  Hildred.  "It  is  an  uncommon 
fate — I  can  master  it.  It  might  break  a  weak  heart, 
anger  a  proud  one — it  shall  strengthen  mine.  Fate  is 
what  people  make  it— I  will  make  mine." 

Yet,  brave  as  was  the  resolve,  it  was  difficult  to 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


123 


carry  out.  Young,  with  life  all  before  her,  she  longed 
for  its  blessings.  It  was  not  pleasant  to  remember 
that  she  had  been  bartered  for  a  title — that  she  had 
been  married  solely  for  her  money — that  she  possessed 
no  charm  for  her  husband — that  he  would  always  be 
profoundly  indifferent  to  her.  She  remembered  stories 
that  she  had  read  of  the  love  that  husband  and  wife 
had  for  each  other — that  it  was  the  strongest,  the 
truest,  the  dearest  the  world  knew — and  she  told  her- 
self that  such  would  never  be  hers.  She  remembered 
once  having  read  that  love  of  her  husband  was  part  of 
a  wife's  religion.  Such  love  was  never  to  be  hers. 
She  did  not  regret  it.  She  could  be  brave  and  noble 
— she  could  do  without  it.  But,  nevertheless,  she 
longed  for  it.  It  would  seem  strange  to  live  always 
at  Ravensmere,  to  have  everything  that  her  heart 
desired,  to  be  wealthy,  honored  and  great,  yet  to  have 
no  husband's  love. 

"One  cannot  have  everything  in  this  world,"  said 
the  young  countess  to  herself;  "but  I  really  think 
that,  if  I  had  been  offered  my  choice,  before  all  other 
gifts  I  should  have  chosen  love." 


CHAPTER  XIII 


"LOVE — A     LIGHT,     LAUGHING,    GRACEFUL,  AIRY  COMEDY" 

Three  weeks  had  passed  since  the  night  on  which 
Hildred  had  heard  the  true  story  of  her  marriage.  She 
had  tried  hard  to  conquer  the  love  for  her  husband 
which  had  begun  to  spring  up  in  her  heart  She  tried 
hard  to  do  her  duty,  to  school  herself  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  for  her  life  she  was  to  be  without  love.  But 
it  was  hard.  She  was  young  and  impressionable;  the 
earl  was  handsome  and  fascinating.  There  were  times 
when  an  irresistible  impulse  came  over  her — an  im- 
pulse to  beg  him  to  love  her.  She  resisted  it,  and 
every  time  she  did  so  resist  her  heart  grew  colder  and 
harder.  It  is  difficult  for  a  flower  to  blossom  in  a 
blighting  cold;  the  buds  droop,  the  perfume  dies. 
It  requires  the  warmth  and  brightness,  the  kisses  and 
smiles  of  the  sun  to  bring  it  to  perfection.  So  it  is 
with  a  half-formed  character  like  Hildred' s — the  sunj 
shine  of  love  and  happiness  would  have  brought  it  to 
a  fair  and  blooming  maturity.  The  chill  of  neglect 
and  indifference  changed  it. 

One  day  Lord  Caraven  asked  her  if  she  would  send 
out  some  notes  of  invitation  for  him,  and  Hildred 
asked  him  if  he  had  a  seal  with  his  monogram  on  it. 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "It  is  somewhere  in  the  drawers 
}24 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


of  the  escretoire  in  my  study.  Will  you  look  for  it, 
Hildred?" 

Since  her  appeal  to  him  he  had  always  called  her 
Hildred.  He  pronounced  the  name  in  a  quick,  hasty 
manner,  as  though  anxious  to  get  it  over.  She  went 
to  his  study,  and  half  smiled  as  she  saw  the  utter 
confusion  of  his  books  and  papers.  He  had  followed 
her,  and  looked  at  her  as  she  smiled. 

"Man's  untidiness  is  proverbial,"  she  said,  "but 
this  surpasses  all  that  I  have  seen.  It  must  be  quite 
impossible  for  you  to  find  anything  in  this  confusion. " 

"It  is  difficult,"  he  owned;  "but  then  you  see  I  sel- 
dom want  to  find  anything.  I  have  often  thought 
that  that  escretoire  should  be  cleared  out;  the  drawers 
are  filled  with  locks  of  hair  and  love  letters." 

"Locks  of  hair?"  she  repeated,  looking  at  him 
aghast. 

"Yes,  love  trophies  of  all  kinds.  There  must  be  a 
latent  fund  of  sentiment  somewhere  in  my  heart.  I 
never  could  destroy  them.  You  will  find  every  variety 
of  hair  there — from  sunniest  auburn  to  darkest  brown. 
You  will  find  flowers  as  faded  as  the  love  of  the  hour 
which  made  them  precious.  I  could  not  destroy  my 
love  tokens,  so  I  have  kept  them." 

"They  do  not  concern  me,'1  she  said,  with  cold  dig- 
nity. Do  as  she  would,  love  would  always  be  a  sacred 
subject  to  her.  She  could  never  fall  into  a  light  fash- 
ion of  discussing  it — never.  Nor  did  she  care  to  hear 
others  so  discuss  it, 

"See,"  said  the  earl;  "here  are  photographs  enough 
ior  an  album.    Charming  actresses,   'blue  stockings,1 


126 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


fair  debutantes — I  have  begged  a  portrait  from  each." 

"And  have  discarded  it  as  soon  as  you  have  received 
it.  I  would  not  give  you  my  portrait  or  a  lock  of  my 
hair  for  the  whole  world!"  she  cried,  angrily. 

Lord  Caraven  laughed. 

"Would  you  not?     How   proud  you  are,  Hildred!" 

"You  are  heartless,"  she  replied.  "Are  all  men 
like  you?  Do  they  pretend  to  love  women  just  to 
amuse  themselves,  and  then  'laugh  and  ride  away?' 
Do  they  all  cease  to  value  a  heart  as  soon  as  it  is 
wen,  and  sneer  at  the  love  which  they  have  sought? 
Are  they  all  faithless  and  insincere,  cold  and  cruel?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Hildred — I  can  only  answer  for 
myself.    I  am  all  that  you  say,  and  a  little  more." 

"Where  did  the  poets  ..get  their  ideas  from?"  she 
asked.  "Surely  not  from  the  men  of  the  present  day. 
I  used  to  believe  in  heroes." 

"Used  you?  I  believe  in  very  little.  Have  you 
found  the  seal?" 

With  a  proud  flush  on  her  face  she  closed  the 
drawer. 

"I  refuse  to  look  any  further,"  she  said.  "I  detest 
your  love  trophies,  as  you  call  them — I  will  not  soil 
my  fingers  by  touching  them." 

The  earl  laughed — her  sweet,  womanly  indignation 
amused  him,  she  looked  so  charming  in  her  anger. 

"Did  all  those — those  women  from  whom  you  won 
love  trophies — did  they  all  believe  you?"  she  asked. 

"Believe  me?    In  what  way?"  he  asked. 

'Believe  that  you  loved  them  when  you  said  so?" 
she  replied. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


127 


"I  do  not  know — I  hope  not.  You  must  remember, 
Hildred,  that  everyone  is  not  so  terribly  in  earnest  as 
you  are.  In  the  world  love  is  a  comedy — men  and 
women  act  their  part  in  it,  and  retire  with  a  laugh 
and  a  bow;  with  you  it  would  be  a  tragedy,  all  fire 
and  earnestness.  The  world  would  be  unendurable 
if  everyone  were  as  earnest  as  you  are." 

"It  would  be  worse  still  if  everyone  were  as  light 
and  faithless  as  you  are,"  she  told  him. 

"Nay,  Hildred,"  he  laughed  again,  "I  am  not  faith- 
less. You  do  not  understands you  have  old-fashioned 
ideas  about  love.  Suppose,  now,  that  I  go  to  a  ball, 
and  that  I  meet  there  the  loveliest  girl  that  ever  drove 
a  man  to  distraction  with  her  smiles.  I  fall  in  love 
with  her — I  ask  for  a  flower  that  she  has  worn.  I 
elect  her  queen  of  my  heart.  I  linger  by  her  side, 
loath  to  leave  her.  We  dance,  we  talk;  we  agree  that 
we  have  never  spent  so  pleasant  an  evening.  I  am 
hopelessly  in  love,  and  she  is  affable.  I  win  a  love 
token  from  her — a  flower  or  a  glove — perhaps  kiss  her 
white  hand.  Three  days  afterward  I  have  forgotten 
her  name  and  she  perhaps  barely  remembers  mine. 
That  is  the  world's  love — a  light,  laughing,  graceful, 
airy  comedy.  You  would  have  it  a  tragedy,  filled 
with  sighs  and  tears.  There  is  no  place  for  such  love 
in  this  laughing  world  of  ours.  A  butterfly  kisses  a 
rose,  caresses  a  lily,  lingers  on  the  sweet-scented  car- 
nation, hovers  round  the  mignonette— there  you  have 
a  true  picture  of  love  as  the  world  knows  it." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily,  her  dark  eyes  all  elo- 
quent with  sweet,  womanly  thoughts. 


128 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  am  very  glad,  Lord  Caraven,"  she  said,  with 
quiet,  contemptuous  dignity,  "that  you  do  not  love  me." 

He  laughed  again,  a  little  uneasily  this  time. 

"Have  you  found  the  seal?"  he  asked.  "These 
notes  must  go." 

"No — and  I  do  not  intend  to  look  for  it.  All  the 
perfumes  of  Arabia  would  not  purify  those  drawers 
for  me."  She  turned  to  quit  the  room — he  looked 
after  her. 

"Hildred!"  he  cried. 

But  she  did  not  turn  back — she  walked  straight  on. 
He  laughed  again  to  himself,  but  again  the  laugh  was 
not  a  pleasant  one. 

"What  a  spirit!"  he  said.  "She  says  that  she  would 
not  have  my  love,  and  I  believe  it.  She  is  terribly 
in  earnest.  Those  dark-haired  women  generally  are — 
they  never  treat  life  as  a  bagatelle." 

"Lord  Caraven,"  said  Hildred,  one  day  soon  after 
this  little  scene,  "who  is  the  person — gentleman,  I 
should  say,  perhaps — who  comes  here  so  often?" 

"Do  you  mean  John  Blantyre,  my  faithful  friend 
and  steward?"  he  asked,  laughingly.  "He  comes  every 
day." 

"Is  that  his  name?    I  do  not  like  his  face." 
"Why  not,  Hildred?"  he  asked. 

"It  is  not  the  face  of  an  honest  man,  unless  nature 
has  for  once  made  a  mistake  in  her  own  handwriting." 

"It  is  not  a  handsome  face  certainly,"  said  the  earl 
—"far  from  it." 

"I  am  not  speaking  of  mere  beauty  of  feature — and 
perhaps  I  judge  him  harshly,"  she  replied.     "But  it 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


129 


do.is  not  seem  to  me  an  honest  face.  I  would  not 
trust  the  man  for — Do  you  trust  him,  Lord  Caraven?" 

"I  trust  him  implicitly — indeed  I  do  not  believe  1 
have  ever  overlooked  his  accounts." 

She  looked  at  him  in  wonder. 

"Never  overlooked  his  accounts!  How  very  care- 
less of  you!"  she  said. 

"I  am  not  careful  by  nature,"  he  told  her,  laugh- 
ingly. 

"But,"  she  observed,  earnestly,  "such  carelessness 
is  wrong.  You  put  a  terrible  temptation  in  his  way 
by  not  keeping  a  check  upon  him." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Lord  Caraven,  indolently,  "that 
I  find  it  easier  to  let  myself  be  robbed  a  little  than 
to  look  after  matters  for  myself." 

The  dark,  eloquent  eyes  that  were  raised  to  his 
expressed  a  great  deal. 

"What  do  you  do  with  your  life?"  she  asked.  "It 
seems  to  me  that  you  have  no  idea  of  duty." 

"Nor  have  I.  I  know  well  what  to  do  with  my  life 
— I  enjoy  it." 

"There  can  be  nothing  more  to  add,"  said  Hildred. 
"But  if  I  were  you,  Lord  Caraven,  I  should  look  after 
my  accounts." 

She  thought  a  great  deal  after  that  conversation.  It 
had  opened  her  eyes  more  fully  to  her  husband's  char- 
acter than  anything  that  had  passed  before.  At  first 
she  had  been  somewhat  dazed  by  the  novelty  of  her 
position.  She  had  been  inclined  to  fall  very  deeply 
in  iove  with  her  handsome  young  husband.  She  had 
idealized  him — she  had  tried  to  make  a  hero  of  him. 


I30  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

The  very  novelty  of  her  position  hid  his  faults  from 
her.  She  had  even  at  times  mistaken  indolence  for 
ease.  But  her  eyes  were  slowly  opening  now.  She 
began  to  perceive  that  although  some  good  qualities 
might  be  innate  in  him,  they  were  overlaid  with 
selfishness  and  long  habits  of  self-indulgence.  Indeed, 
it  was  difficult  to  tell  what  his  original  nature  had 
been.  She  began  to  perceive  that  his  character  resem- 
bled a  garden  which  had  been  sown  with  the  fairest 
of  flowers,  but  which  had  afterward  been  choked  by 
the  foulest  of  weeds.    She  decided  to  study  him. 

Was  he  generous?  She  thought  at  first  that  she 
might  say  "Yes."  They  were  riding  out  one  day,  and 
they  met  a  poor  woman  begging,  with  a  little  child 
in  her  arms.  She  was  poor,  hungry,  all  in  tatters, 
with  pinched  face,  and  sad,  weary  eyes — a  pitiful 
spectacle  of  want  and  destitution.  As  they  passed  by, 
the  earl  took  out  his  purse  and  literally  emptied  it  on 
the  ground  at  the  woman's  feet.  She  looked  dazed 
and  bewildered  at  this  sudden  bountv  qf  fortune.  He 
did  not  wait  for  any  thanks,  but  rode  on. 

"I  wish,"  he  sa;d^  "that  I  could  collect  all  the  poor 
people  in  the  world  together  and  make  them  rich." 

"Was  that  generosity?"  she  said  to  herself. 

Yes,  it  must  be.  She  did  not  think  of  the  lux- 
urious, ease-loving  nature  that  shrank  selfishly  from 
seeing  pain  in  others,  that  would  fain  have  kept  all 
painful,  sorrowful  objects  out  of  sight,  that  shrank 
from  the  sight  of  suffering  as  it  would  have  shrunk 
from  pain.  She  did  not  think  of  this  disposition  or 
make  any  allowance  for  it  when  she  pronounced  her 
husband  generous. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


131 


They  rode  on  until  they  came  to  a  small  cottage- 
one  belonging  to  the  Ravensmere  estate — at  the  door 
of  which  stood  a  man  still  young,  but  crippled  and 
bent  double  with  rheumatism.  A  little  cry  of  pain 
came  from  Hildred's  lips  as  she  saw  him,  but  the 
young  man's  eyes  were  fixed  with  an  evil  light  on  the 
earl's  face. 

Hildred  stopped  to  say  a  kind  word  to  him;  the 
cripple  came  out  and  stood  in  front  of  the  earl's  mag- 
nificent horse. 

"My  lord,"  he  said,  in  a  hoarse  voice,  "I  have  you 
to  thank  for  these" — pointing  to  his  shrunken  limbs 
— "and  for  these,  also" — pointing  to  his  useless  hands. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Lord  Caraven  demanded, 
his  face  flushing  with  anger. 

"I  mean  this,  my  lord — that  I  was  a  strong  young 
man  when  I  took  this  cottage  and  brought  my  wife 
home  here;  now,"  he  cried,  in  a  sudden  passion  of 
despair — "now  look  at  me!" 

"What  have  I  to  do  with  that?"  asked  the  earl, 
nngrily. 

"This  much,  my  lord — I  spent  all  my  bit  of  money 
on  this  land;  I  had  none  left  for  repairing  the  house 
— your  house,  my  lord.  The  water  came  in  at  the 
roof  and  at  the  windows — the  wind  blew  through  the 
doors.  I  begged  to  have  it  repaired — I  have  sent  more 
letters  than  I  could  count  to  agent  and  landlord. 
Neither  has  attended  to  me.  If  I  had  had  the  money, 
I  would  have  done  it  myself;  but  I  had  not.  I  have 
had  a  sick  wife  and  sick  children,  but  never  a  shil 
ling  to  spare  for  the  broken  roof,  and  your  heartless, 
ness  has  reduced  me  to  this/' 


132 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Stand  aside!"  said  the  earl,  angrily;  "you  men  are 
never  contented — never  satisfied — stand  aside!  " 

"My  lord,"  cried  the  man,  "the  horses  in  your  sta- 
bles, the  dogs  in  your  kennels,  are  better  cared  for 
than  I — they  are  better  housed.  If  I  die" — and  his 
voice  changed  to  a  cry  of  despair — "my  death  be  upon 
your  head!" 

"You  are  an  impertinent  fellow!"  cried  the  earl. 
"Out  of  my  way,  or  I  will  ride  over  you!" 

"Pray — pray  listen  to  him,  Lord  Caraven,"  cried 
Hildred. 

But  the  earl  turned  angrily  to  her. 

'You  do  not  understand  these  matters;  you  must 
not  interfere,"  he  said — "a  set  of  idle  rogues!" 

"Stop,  my  lord,"  cried  the  man,  his  face  paling 
— "stop.  Be  satisfied  with  taking  my  health  and  my 
strength — leave  my  character  alone.  I  am  no  rogue;  I 
am  an  honest,  hard-working  man." 

"Honest,  indeed!  "  cried  the  earl.  "There  is  not  on© 
honest  man  among  you." 

The  evil  look  deepened  on  the  man's  pale  face. 

"I  will  not  answer,  my  lord,"  he  said,  with  quiet 
dignity.  "I  am  asking  a  favor;  it  is  life  to  me.  I  have 
no  money  to  leave  the  house.  If  I  remain  in  it  as  it 
is,  it  will  be  certain  death  to  me.  My  lord,  it  is  but 
a  few  pounds — very  few — do  not  refuse  them." 

But  Lord  Caraven's  face  grew  crimson  with  anger. 

"I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  And  let  me  tell 
you  that  I  consider  it  a  great  piece  of  impertinence 
for  you  to  stop  me  in  this  fashion;  I  have  an  agent 
to   manage    my    affairs — go  to  him.    Out    of  my 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


133 


road,  and  take  care,  that  ycu  do  not  stop  me  again." 

The  man  went  away,  and  the  earl  rode  on.  Was  he 
generous?  Only  a  few  pounds,  and  for  that  a  life 
must  be  sacrificed! 

"Mind,  Hildred,"  he  said,  sharply,  "you  are  not 
from  any  mistaken  notion  of  generosity  to  interfere; 
if  you  do,  I  shall  have  to  repair  every  house  on  the 
estate. " 

And  she  wondered  to  herself  whose  idea  of  generos- 
ity was  mistaken — his  or  hers. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


"i  AM  A  FORTUNATE  MAN** 

Hildred's  heart  sank  lower  and  lower — every  day 
brought  her  some  fresh  revelation  of  her  husband's 
character  which  was  utterly  unendurable  to  her.  The 
worst  trait  of  all  was  that  he  seemed  to  her,  as  it  were, 
to  lounge  through  life.  He  literally  did  nothing — no 
useful  occupation  ever  seemed  to  attract  him.  He 
never  read — he  never  wrote.  If  any  letter  of  impor- 
tance required  an  answer,  he  passed  it  to  her,  or 
threw  it  aside.  If  the  agent  brought  the  accounts, 
he  said,  in  his  indolent  manner:  "Lay  the  books  down 
— I  will  see  to  them  soon;"  but  he  never  looked  at 
them.  He  had  but  one  idea,  and  that  was  amuse- 
ment. No  idea  of  work  ever  seemed  to  occur  to  him 
— self-indulgence  and  indolence  were  all  that  he  cared 
for. 

Hildred's  heart  sank  in  dismay.  She  looked  at  him 
sometimes  as  he  lay  listlessly  stretched  on  a  couch, 
and  wondered  why  nature  had  given  so  fair  an  exterior 
to  one  with  so  little  soul.  The  handsome  face  seemed 
to  have  no  purpose  in  it.  If  he  spoke,  it  was  always 
about  some  plan  or  other  for  his  own  especial  amuse- 
ment— it  was  either  of  billiards  or  of  one  of  the  games 
in  which  he  took  such  infinite  delight.  He  never 
advanced  any  scheme  for  th^  benefit  of  others;  in  fact 

134 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


*35 


other  people,  except  so  far  as  they  ministered  to  his 
pleasures  and  his  will,  did  not  exist  for  him.  He  was 
a  hopeless  character — far  more  hopeless  than  that  of 
a  man  of  graver  faults.  His  young  wife  looked  at  him 
sometimes  wondering  if  anything  would  ever  interest 
him,  would  ever  rouse  him,  would  ever  stimulate  him 
to  action. 

"It  is  a  terrible  thing,"  she  said,  "to  live  so  entirely 
for  one's  self — a  terrible  thing." 

She  thought  to  herself  once  that  she  would  sketch 
his  day.  He  never  rose  until  after  ten;  he  sat  for  some 
time  over  his  breakfast,  reading  his  letters  and  news- 
papers. The  former  were  thrown  aside,  and  seldom, 
if  ever,answered;  even  those  of  importance  were  ignored 
like  the  rest.  There  was  generally  a  muttered  word 
over  the  bills,  if  any  came.  Then  he  took  a  gallop 
on  his  horse  wherever  his  wild  fancy  led.  That  was 
followed  by  luncheon,  when  his  lordship  did  not  spare 
his  wine;  after  that  came  billiards  or  cards,  if  anyone 
worth  playing  with  was  in  the  house.  Dinner  was  fol- 
lowed by  wine  and  billiards  until  the  early  hours  of 
the  morning.  It  was  not  a  noble  life,  it  was  not  even 
a  dignified  life — it  had  no  end,  no  aim,  no  object  ex- 
cept self  indulgence,  and  the  young  wife  looked  on 
in  sorrowful  dismay. 

Would  he  never  change?  Would  he  remain  selfish, 
self-indulgent,  indolent,  to  his  life's  end?  The  con- 
trast between  what  he  did  and  what  he  should  have 
done  appalled  her — she  hardly  dared  to  think  of  it. 
The  estate  was  neglected  and  uncared  for;  the  ten- 
ants were  oppressed;  appeals  for  mercy  and  for  justice 


136 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


were  made  to  him  in  vain.  The  farmers  were  all 
dissatisfied;  the  only  person  who  really  seemed  to 
approve  of  matters  as  they  stood  was  John  Blantyre, 
the  steward,  the  man  whom  Lady  Caraven  instinctively 
disliked.  He  was  alwa}rs  smiling,  bland,  suave;  he  had 
a  habit,  while  talking  to  Lord  Caraven,  of  rubbing  his 
hands — a  habit  that  used  to  annoy  and  to  irritate  the 
young  countess  exceedingly.  He  was  quite  pleased  if 
threats  were  made  by  the  servants  and  laborers  that 
they  would  appeal  to  the  earl.  He  had  a  fashion  of 
saying,  "You  can  try  it — you  will  see  what  the  earl 
says;"  for  the  earl  had  but  one  answer  to  everything 
— complaint,  excuse,  or  prayer — and  it  was,  "Go  to 
Blantyre;"  indeed,  the  order  had  become  quite  a  by- 
word on  the  estate,  "Go  to  Blantyre"  being  considered 
as  equivalent  to  something  far  more  dreadful. 

The  young  countess  looked  around  her.  On  every 
side  she  saw  the  same  evil — nothing  was  attended  to, 
nothing  done;  the  indolent  ease  of  the  earl  seemed  to 
extend  to  everyone  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 
The  servants  were  continually  being  changed;  noth- 
ing went  right,  as  nothing  does  when  the  master  of 
the  house  takes  no  interest  in  anything  that  passes 
in  it. 

Another  thing  distressed  her.  She  saw  that  his  old 
love  of  gambling  was  returned  in  full  force.  There 
were  times  when  his  face  grew  very  dark  over  his  bet- 
ting-book; and  he  would  leave  home  on  all  the  great 
race-days,  remaining  away  for  some  time,  and  return- 
ing home  indolent,  more  selfish  than  ever. 

Time  had  familiarized  him  with  her  presence  in  the 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


137 


house;  but  it  was  seldom  that  he  took  any  special 
notice  of  her,  seldom  that  he  spoke  to  her.  As  for 
any  display  of  kindness  or  love,  it  was  out  of  the 
question. 

It  was  a  dreary  fate.  She  tried  to*  bear  it  bravely, 
to  store  up  golden  knowledge  and  wisdom;  but  at 
eighteen,  when  the  heart  longs  for  love,  and  the  fair 
opening  life  craves  for  its  full  enjoyment,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  live  on  knowledge  and  wisdom.  She  strove 
hard;  she  told  herself  that  marriage  was  irrevocable 
. — that  hers  could  never  be  undone.  The  only  thing 
that  remained  was  to  make  the  best  of  it.  How  to 
do  that  was  now  the  great  study  of  her  life.  She 
found  herself  opposed  on  all  sides.  If  she  attempted 
to  ask  the  earl  anything  about  the  people  on  his 
estate,  the  answer  always  was,  "Go  to  Blantyre. "  As 
she  neither  liked  nor  trusted  Blantyre,  she  never  con- 
descended to  ask  him  a  single  question. 

"My  life  is  empty,"  she  would  say.  "I  might  almost 
as  well  be  dead  as  living." 

No  more  pa.inful  life  could  have  been  imagined. 
Ravensmere  was  gay  enough;  they  saw  plenty  of  visi- 
tors, they  had  balls  and  dinner-parties;  their  visitors 
were  gay,  worldly,  brilliant  people  who  came  to  enjoy 
themselves  for  a  few  days,  and  did  not  care  to  enter 
into  the  cares  and  trials  of  their  hostess.  With  them 
she  was  gay  and  brilliant — she  would  show  nothing 
of  the  anguish  that  never  left  her;  they  should  not 
go  away  and  talk  about  "Lady  Caraven,  the  wife 
whom  her  husband  did  not  love,"  whatever  it  cost 
her  and  the  effort  was  at  times  terrible. 


i38 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


The  earl  saw  her  only  at  those  times,  and  he  smiled 
significantly. 

"Women  have  no  heart,"  he  said,  scoffingly.  "This 
girl  is  just  as  happy  as  though  she  had  the  most  lov- 
ing husband  in  the  world.  She  has  what  she  wanted, 
and  she  seems  to  enjoy  it,  too." 

Of  the  noble  womanly  pride  that  disdained  all  com- 
plaint, of  the  brave  spirit  that  fought  so  resolutely 
with  her  longing  for  happiness  and  her  longing  for 
love,  he  never  even  dreamed.  To  him  she  was  a  girl 
content  with  her  fate — a  girl  who  enjoyed  her  title,  her 
position,  her  gayeties,  who  did  not  look  beyond  them, 
who  cared  nothing  that  she  was  a  neglected,  widowed 
wife.  Had  anyone  told  him  the  contrary  he  would 
not  have  believed  it;  he  would  have  said  it  was  a  mis- 
conception. She  looked  very  nice  at  the  head  of  his 
table — very  handsome,  very  graceful;  she  could  sing 
like  a  nightingale;  she  never  interfered  with  him. 
What  more  could  he  wish  for? 

"I  begin  to  think,"  said  the  handsome  earl  to  him- 
self one  day,  "that  I  have  not  done  so  badly  after  all. 
If  I  had  married  for  love,  or  anything  of  that  kind, 
what  trouble  I  should  have  had,  what  reproaches  and 
tears — and  a  woman's  tears!  I  would  sooner  face 
untold  hardships.  I  should  have  had  all  the  uncer- 
tainties of  love;  now  I  am  spared  it  all,  and  my  house 
is  presided  over  by  a  queenly  mistress.  Taking  every- 
thing into  account,  I  consider  I  am  a  fortunate  man." 

So  he  said  in  his  blindness;  but  the  time  was  to 
come  when  he  would  awaken  from  *hat  blindness  with 
sudden  passionate  pain. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


139 


When  the  month  of  May  came  round  he  decided 
upon  going  to  London.  Halby  House  was  prepared 
for  them,  and  the  handsome  earP  s  friends  made  ready 
to  receive  him  with  open  arms.  He  had  been  wel- 
come in  his  penniless  state,  and,  having  married  a 
wealthy  heiress,  he  was  now  doubly  welcome.  Those 
who  had  won  money  from  him  before  looked  forward 
to  winning  more;  those  who  had  gambled  and  betted 
with  him  before,  looked  forward  to  a  renewal  of  those 
delights.    He  would  be  welcome. 

The  elite  of  the  fashionable  world  were  not  sorry  to 
receive  their  favorite  again.  The  rumor  that  Halby 
House  was  to  be  thrown  open,  that  the  young  Count- 
ess of  Caraven  was  very  beautiful,  that  the  earl's 
revived  prosperity  would  enable  him  to  vie  with  the 
best  party-givers  in  London,  was  good  news.  The 
only  one  indifferent  to  it  was  the  young  countess  her- 
self— and  she  would  fain  have  hidden  her  sorrows  from 
all  eyes  and  remained  at  Ravensmere. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"died  of  neglect* 

Halby  House  was,  as  rumor  said,  one  of  the  most 
magnificent  mansions  in  London.  It  had  been  closed 
for  some  years,  the  earPs  affairs  not  permitting  his 
residence  there.  Now  circumstances  were  different. 
Arley  Ransome — to  whom  this  spring  was  to  bring 
the  keen  enjoyment  of  his  ambition — had  undertaken 
to  have  it  redecorated  and  refurnished.  He  had  grati- 
fied the  earl  by  begging  that  he  would  leave  the  mat- 
ter entirely  to  him;  it  would  delight  him,  he  said,  to 
place  so  valuable  a  present  in  his  daughter's  hand  as 
a  wedding  gift.    The  earl  laughed  indolently. 

"It  is  rather  late  in  the  day  for  a  wedding  gift,"  he 
said,  "but  do  just  as  you  like." 

Arley  Ransome  did  just  as  he  liked;  he  enjoyed  it 
very  much.  He  had  the  pleasure  of  going  to  the  best 
shops  in  London  and  ordering  all  kinds  of  things  for 
"my  daughter,  Lady  Caraven" — "my  daughter,  the 
Countess  of  Caraven." 

It  was  a  poor  ambition  for  a  clever  man;  but  it  was 
his,  and  he  had  gratified  it  at  the  cost  of  his  daugh- 
ter's happiness.  That  mattered  little  to  him;  he  was 
father-in-law  to  the  Right  Honorable,  the  Earl  of  Cara- 
ven— he  was  the  father  of  the  beautiful  Countess  o 

140 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


141 


Caraven.  What  this  did  for  him,  how  it  advanced  his 
interests,  he  best  knew. 

Halby  House  was  talked  about  for  its  splendor  and 
magnificence;  even  before  the  earl  and  countess  came 
to  town  crowds  of  people  went  to  see  it.  It  was  con- 
sidered a  triumph  of  art.  The  earl  had  not  asked  his 
young  wife  if  she  would  go  up  to  town;  he  had  taken 
her  consent  for  granted.  He  knew  that  she  must  be 
presented — that,  if  he  failed  in  that  duty,  Arley  Ran- 
some  would  be  indignant;  and  he  was  fairly  caught 
in  the  toils.  He  was  not  particularly  ashamed  of  his 
wife;  he  was  not  proud  of  her;  but  he  had  ceased  to 
feel  annoyed  by  the  reflection  that  he  had  married  a 
money-lender's  daughter.  The  Duchess  of  Morley  was 
to  present  her;  and,  once  under  the  shadow  of  her 
grace's  protection,  a  triumph  was  sure  to  follow. 

A  proud  day  for  Arley  Ransome  was  that  of  his 
daughter's  presentation  at  court.  He  drove  to  Halby 
House  to  see  her  before  she  went,  and  to  him  his 
daughter  looked  like  a  miracle  of  beauty.  Full  dress 
enhanced  her  loveliness  wonderfully;  her  neck,  arms 
and  shoulders  were  beautifully  molded,  and  they  were 
shown  to  the  greatest  advantage,  as  was  the  perfect, 
rounded  figure.  The  court-dress  was  one  of  unusual 
magnificence — a  silver  brocade  elaborately  trimmed 
with  rich  lace.  She  wore  a  parure  of  diamonds;  the 
waving  plumes  that  lend  so  grotesque  an  aspect  to 
some  faces  gave  her  an  air  of  majesty.  The  lovely 
Spanish  face  and  dark  eyes  were  a  study  in  themselves. 

She  was  alone  with  her  maids  in  her  dressing-room 
when  Arley  Ransome  came.  He  sent  up  a  little  pen- 
ciled note,  saying: 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Hildred,  can  you  come  into  the  drawing-room  for 
a  few  minutes?  I  want  to  see  you  in  your  court-dress.'* 

There  was  no  elation  in  her  heart  as  she  raised  her 
magnificent  train  in  her  hand  and  threw  it  over  her 
arm.    She  went  downstairs  grave,  collected,  almost  sad. 

Arley  Ransome  started  as  she  entered.  Then  he 
made  a  low  bow. 

"My  dear  Hildred, "  he  said,  "I  congratulate  you. 
-  How  beautiful  you  look!  You  were  born  to  be  a  count- 
ess. " 

"Then  I  was  born  to  very  little  purpose,"  she  re- 
plied, hastily. 

He  would  not  notice  the  petulant  reply. 

"I  must  repeat  that  you  look  very  beautiful,  indeed, 
my  dear  child,"  he  said.     "I  am  surprised — gratified  " 

"I  am  glad  that  you  are  pleased,"  she  replied.  He 
was  her  father,  and  she  was  compelled  to  honor  him; 
but  she  felt  that  she  could  never  forgive  him  for  hav- 
ing sold  her — sold  her  for  a  title. 

"I  think,  my  dear,"  said  Arley  Ransome,  nervously, 
"that  it  would  be  quite  as  well  if  you  could  try  to — to 
look  a  little  brighter.  You  do  not  look  happy.  How 
is  it?" 

"Did  you  ever  expect  that  I  should  be  happy,  papa?" 

"Of  course.  Most  certainly  you  have  everything  to 
make  you  so." 

She  made  no  reply.  The  lawyer's  eyes  glistened 
with  keenest  satisfaction  as  he  looked  at  her. 

"It  is  a  proud  day  for  me,"  he  said — "the  day  on 
which  I  see  my  daughter  in  her  court-dress.  Throw 
down  the  train;  let  me  see  the  full  effect." 


FROk  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


•  143 


Without  a  smile  on  her  face  she  complied,  standing 
before  him  calm,  beautiful,  self-possessed.  At  that 
moment  the  earl,  not  knowing  she  was  there,  entered 
the  room.    He  started  at  the  lovely  apparition. 

"Hildred,  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  here.  You 
are  ready,  I  see." 

"Quite  ready,"  she  replied,  briefly. 

"Then  we  will  start  at  once,"  he  said. 

Arley  Ransome  went  up  to  him. 

"You  must  feel  pleased  and  proud,"  he  said.  "The 
most  beautiful  woman  presented  to-day  will  be  your 
wife.    I  predict  for  her  a  signal  triumpji. " 

"Which  will  add  considerably  to  my  domestic  hap- 
piness," remarked  the  earl. 

Yes,  he  was  pleased.  He  saw  people  whose  opinions 
he  valued  turn  to  look  at  his  wife;  he  heard  her  name 
whispered;  he  saw  admiring  glances  follow  her;  he  felt 
that  among  fair  pink-and-white  English  girls  she  looked 
like  some  southern  queen.  But  the  knowledge  of  all 
this  did  not  in  the  least  warm  his  heart  to  her.  And 
she?  She  had  ceased  to  feel  any  great  interest  in 
his  opinion.  The  time  had  been  when  she  would  per- 
haps have  stood  before  him,  and  have  said,  "I  hope 
you  are  pleased  with  me,  Lord  Caraven."  She  would 
not  now;  she  was  proudly,  superbly  indifferent.  Indeed 
she  would  have  given  much  for  the  impulse,  the  desire 
to  please  him.    It  had  faded  away— died  of  neglect. 

There  was  no  prouder  woman  at  the  queen's  draw- 
ing-room than  the  money-lender's  daughter,  the  un- 
loved, neglected  wife  of  the  handsome  earl.  How  lit* 
tie  she  dreamed  of  the  spleodid  pageant  when  she 


144 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


was  at  St.  Roche,  thinking  only  of  study!  How  little 
she  had  thought  that  at  some  time  or  other  she  would 
be  a  countess— Countess  of  Caraven — that  she  would 
be  taken  to  court  by  a  grand  and  stately  duchess. 

'I  wish,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh,  "that  I  were  at  St. 
Roche  again.  There  life  was  bright,  because  it  was  full 
of  possibilities;  the  possibilities  are  all  accomplished 
now,  and  it  is  bright  no  longer." 

For  a  few  minutes  she  forgot  her  troubles,  when 
she  stood  before  the  queen.  Then  there  was  a  crush, 
a  mingling  of  smiles  and  sighs,  and  the  drawing-room 
was  over. 

Arley  Ransome  was  a  proud  man  that  day.  He  in- 
tended his  daughter  to  be  his  stepping-stone  to  honor. 
The  handsome  earl  was  not  at  all  elated — he  heard  all 
that  people  had  to  say  about  the  beauty  of  his  wife^ 
but  he  did  not  place  much  faith  in  it.  To  him  she 
would  always  be  the  unformed  school-girl  of  the  Hol- 
lies. When  anyone  praised  his  wife,  he  thought  it 
was  done  to  please  him;  and  he  laughed  cynically  to 
himself,  knowing  how  mistaken  they  were. 

He  wondered  a  little  what  his  wife  thought  of  her 
great  success.  It  struck  him  that  he  would  ask  her. 
He  reached  home  at  the  same  time  that  she  did,  and 
followed  her  to  the  drawing-room,  thinking  as  he 
looked  at  her  how  grave  and   earnest  was  her  face. 

"How  did  you  feel  through  it  all,  Hildred?"  he 
asked. 

"Something  like  a  daw  in  borrowed  plumes,"  she 
replied.  "I  do  not  think  I  shall  care  very  much  about 
your  great  world,  Lord  Caraven.    I  do  not  think  it  is 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


145 


such  a  great  pleasure  to  be  of  it.  I  think  it  is  quite 
possible  that  many  would  be  civil  to  the  Countess  of 
Caraven  who  would  have  wasted  little  kindness  on 
Hildred  Ransome. " 

"There  you  are  right,"  he  said. 

"I  do  not  care  for  your  great  world,  then.  I  know 
worlds  higher  and  greater — I  would  sooner  belong  to 
them." 

"Yet  it  is  something  to  be  Countess  of  Caraven," 
said  the  earl. 

And  his  wife's  sigh  was  the  only  response  to  his 
words. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


MA  FALSE,   UNNATURAL  LIFE* 

The  people  of  the  great  world  did  not  quite  under- 
stand Lady  Caraven.  She  was  among  them,  but  not 
of  them.  In  crowded  ball-rooms,  in  the  opera-house, 
at  garden-parties  and  where  the  lovers  of  fashion  con- 
gregated, her  noble,  beautiful  face,  with  its  look  of 
proud  reserve,  appeared  out  of  place.  She  was  very 
popular — very  much  liked — but  not  quite  understood. 
Fair  ladies  whose  lives  were  one  gay  round  of  pleas- 
ure wondered  why  smiles  did  not  come  as  readily  to 
her  lips  as  to  theirs — why  she  was  graver,  more 
thoughtful,  more  abstracted. 

•  It  was  so  strange  a  life;  the  world  around  her  was 
so  brilliant,  so  gay,  there  seemed  no  room  in  it  for 
anything  but  laughter  and  song.  There  were  times 
when  she  looked  wonderingly  at  the  bright  faces  of 
others,  crying  from  the  depths  of  her  soul: 
"My  heart  is  empty!  " 

The  tender,  loving  human  heart  was  empty.  She 
had  loved  her  father  very  dearly,  and  he  had  sold  her 
to  the  handsome  earl  for  a  title — for  the  gratification 
of  a  paltry  ambition.  She  had  tried  to  love  her  hus- 
band and  he  had  amused  himself  by  telling  her  of  his 
conquests — he  had  frankly  owned  that  he  did  not  care 
for  her  and  that  he  never  should.    Her  heart  was 

146 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


147 


empty.  It  was  too  noble  to  be  filled  with  frivolity. 
She  might  have  turned  to  that  refuge  for  the  destitute, 
flirtation;  she  might  have  thrown  herself  into  the 
giddy  vortex  of  the  world — into  the  whirlpool  of 
gayety;  she  might  have  lived  on  excitement.  But 
she  was  too  noble  for  any  of  these  things — she  could 
not  have  consented  to  them. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  my  life?" 

The  cry  that  arises  from  so  many  aching  hearts 
now  arose  from  hers.  She  had  no  one  to  love,  no  one 
to  care  for — the  very  duties  that  might  have  occupied 
her  were  taken  from  her — and  something  of  all  this 
was  told  in  the  beautiful  young  face.  She  had  many 
sad  thoughts.  No  one  was  more  popular  in  society 
than  the  handsome  earl;  but  people  were  quite  alive 
to  his  failings,  which  were  never  treated  very  seriously 
— the  rumor  that  he  had  lost  a  few  thousands  on  the 
turf,  a  few  hundreds  at  the  gaming-table,  was  gener- 
ally received  with  a  smile.  He  was  "faithless  and  light 
of  heart,"  he  never  sighed  over  his  misfortunes,  and 
the  world  loved  the  smiling  fashion  in  which  he  bore 
them. 

People  had  not  made  up  their  minds  as  to  whether 
he  loved  his  beautiful  girl-wife,  and  Hildred  often 
heard  remarks  not  intended  for  her  ear.  One  evening 
she  was  standing  behind  a  group  of  ladies  in  a  crowded 
ball-room,  and  she  heard  her  own  name. 

"Have  you  seen  Lady  Caraven?"  one  asked  another, 
and  the  answer  was:  "Yes,  I  have  seen  her.  She  is 
very  beautiful;  but  she  is  a  thousand  times  too  good 
for  the  earl." 


148 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Yes,  it  was  a  sacrifice,"  said  the  first  speaker. 
"She  does  not  look  happy." 

Again,  she  was  in  the  crush-room  one  evening,  when, 
feeling  cold,  she  drew  her  opera-hood  over  her  face, 
and  she  heard  herself  spoken  of. 

"The  Countess  of  Caraven.  Poor  child,  she  is  to 
be  pitied!" 

Why  was  it  that  people  seemed  to  pity  her?  Did 
the  whole  world  know  that  her  husband  had  married 
her  for  her  money  and  did  not  love  her?  She  fancied 
it  must  be  so — and  that  belief  made  her  more  retiring 
than  ever. 

One  morning  she  was  restless  and  could  not  sleep. 
She  had  been  thinking  about  her  strange  lot  in  life 
until  her  head  ached.  The  pillow  was  hot;  she  longed 
to  be  up  and  breathing  the  sweet,  fresh  morning  air. 

She  touched  the  repeater;  it  was  just  four.  She 
thought  a  book  might  soothe  her,  and  was  much  in- 
terested in  a  new  novel.  She  was  always  considerate 
about  her  servants.  Many  ladies  would  have  rung  for 
their  maid,  and  have  sent  her  for  what  they  required; 
but  Lady  Caraven  rose  and  put  on  her  dressing, 
gown,  intending  to  go  to  the  drawing-room  herself. 
Then  the  clear  cold  water  in  her  dressing-room  looked 
so  tempting  that  she  stopped  and  bathed  her  face  and 
hands  in  it.  She  drew  her  wealth  of  dark  hair  behind 
her  pretty  shell-like  ears.  She  had  no  thought  of  the 
lovely  picture  she  presented — her  beautiful  face  glow- 
ing with  roses  from  the  cold  water,  her  hair  falling 
in  most  picturesque  disorder,  the  graceful  lines  and 
curves  of  her  figure  showing  to  greatest  advantage. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


I49 


She  went  downstairs,  and  was  surprised  to  see  the 
/arge  lamp  still  burning  in  the  hall.  She  thought  it 
had  been  forgotten,  and  went  forward  with  the  inten- 
tion of  putting  it  out.  To  her  still  greater  surprise, 
she  saw  Adolphe,  her  husbands  valet,  asleep  in  the 
great  arm-chair.    She  spoke  to  him. 

"Adolphe,"  she  said,  "what  are  you  doing  here? 
Why  is  this  lamp  still  alight?    It  is  morning." 

The  tired  man-servant  looked  round  him  with  an  air 
of  stupefaction  for  half  a  minute,  then  rose,  and,  see- 
ing the  young  countess,  grew  puzzled  and  half 
alarmed.  What  was  he  to  say  if  she  repeated  the 
question? 

"What  are  you  doing  here? "  she  asked  again. 

He  dared  not  say  that  he  was  waiting  for  his  master; 
but,  before  he  had  time  to  reply,  there  came,  fortu- 
nately, a  knock  at  the  hall  door,  and  the  next  moment 
the  earl  stood  before  her.  In  amazement  he  looked 
at  the  vision  before  him. 

"Hildred,"  he  cried,  "what  are  you  doing  here?" 

"I  came  down  to  find  a  book,  because  I  could  not 
sleep,  and,  seeing  the  lamp  burning,  I  intended  to 
extinguish  it." 

Lord  Caraven  took  out  his  watch. 

"Four  o'clock,"  he  said.  "I  am  late— or  rathe/ 
early;    I  have  been  playing  at  billiards  since  eleven  1 

"She  looked  contemptuously  at  him. 

"I  believe, "  she  said,  "that  your  whole  sou1  is 
engrossed  in  billiards." 

"I  have  played  the  best  game  to-night  that  I  A,aVe 
ever  played  in  my  life,"  he  told  her,  laughing. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


She  made  no  reply.    He  continued: 

"I  will  quote  a  popular  line — 'If  you're  waking, 
call  me  early' — that  is,  some  time  after  noon.  We 
shall  have  a  grand  match  at  the  club  to-morrow  even- 
ing, and  I  have  staked  a  small  fortune  on  the  cham- 
pion billiard-player  of  England." 

Hildred  looked  at  him — the  handsome  face  was 
worn  and  haggard,  the  eyes  were  tired  and  dim.  The 
picture  was  a  striking  one — the  girl-wife  in  all  the 
fresh  beauty  of  her  youth;  the  husband,  still  in  his 
evening  dress,  haggard,  pale,  yet  handsome  even  in 
his  fatigue;  the  lovely  light  of  the  morning  struggling 
with  the  garish  light  of  the  lamp. 

Hildred  spoke  at  last — the  valet  had  discreetly  dis- 
appeared. 

"  I  had  no  idea  that  you  stayed  out  so  late,"  she 
said,  gravely.     "I  do  not  think  it  is  right." 

"If  I  were  you,"  returned   her  husband,  "I  would 

not  waste  any  time  in  thinking   about  it.    You  know 

the  old  song: 

"'The  best  of  all  ways  to  lengthen  our  days 

Is  to  steal  a  few  hours  from  the  night,  my  dear.,M 

"It  must  be  hard  for  your  servants,"  she  said, 
"though  perhaps  very  delightful  to  yourself." 

"You  forget  our  compact,  Hildred,"  he  said,  his 
face  clouding.  "You  go  your  way,  and  I  go  mine; 
but  I  will  allow  no  interference;  my  outgoings  and 
incomings  have  nothing  to  do  with  you — do  not  for- 
get." 

"I  do  not  forget,"  she  told  him,  haughtily. 

"I  will  never  allow  anyone  to  mak^  any  comment 


FROM  OUT  THE  GL06M 


upon  my  actions,"  he  said.  "I  please  myself,  and  I 
always  shall." 

"I  make  no  comment,"  rejoined  his  wife. 

He  recovered  his  good  humor — it  was  impossible  to 
look  at  her  and  do  otherwise.  "We  both,  it  appears, 
steal  a  few  hours  from  the  night,  but  mine  are  taken 
from  the  beginning,  yours  from  the  end.  Good  morn- 
ing, Hildred,"  and  the  next  moment  she  was  stand- 
ing in  the  hall  alone. 

She  went  into  the  drawing-room  and  opened  the 
shutters,  letting  in  all  the  glory  of  the  sunshine,  all 
the  fragrance  of  the  morning  air;  she  opened  the  win- 
dows and  looked  out  at  the  tall  green  trees.  How 
fair  it  was — this  world  on  which  she  looked!  The 
sky  was  glowing  with  crimson  and  gold,  the  dew  lay 
shining  on  the  grass,  the  western  wind  was  fragrant 
with  sweet  odors. 

Looking  at  the  morning  sky,  she  remembered  her 
husband's  handsome  haggard  face  under  the  garish 
light  of  the  lamp,  and  she  turned  away  with  a  shud- 
der. What  a  false,  unnatural  life  it  was!  How  she 
loathed  it!  She  laid  her  head  against  the  cool  green 
leaves  of  the  plants  that  half-filled  the  window,  and, 
looking  still  at  the  morning  skies,  dreamed  of  the 
world,  of  life  as  it  might  have  been — so  different — ah, 
so  different,  if  she  had  only  married  someone  who 
loved  her! 

The  beauty  of  the  morning  sky,  the  fragrance  of  the 
flowers,  awoke  in  her  heart  a  longing  for  love.  If 
she  had  only  married  a  husband  who  loved  her — who 
would  have  talked  to  her,  cared  for  her — who  would 


PROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


not  have  placed  her  outside  his  life,  and  have  treated 

her  as  a  stranger — she  could  have  lived  in  the  green 
heart  of  the  land,  away  from  the  brilliant  city;  the 
sun  would  always  have  shone  for  her. 

So  thinking,  so  dreaming,  she  fell  asleep  with  her 
head  among  the  leaves,  and^the  sun  shining  on  her 
face. 

When  she  awoke  it  was  with  a  shudder,  her  dreams 
had  all  been  of  the  earl's  anger.  She  remembered 
the  scene  of  the  early  morning. 

"And  now,"  she  thought,  "he  will,  sleep  until  noon, 
and  then  play  again  until  sunrise  to-morrow.  What 
a  life!  May  heaven  pardon  us  for  the  time  we  waste." 

It  was  not  until  dinner-time  the  same  day  that  she 
saw  her  husband  again,  and  then  he  did  not  look  very 
well  pleased. 

"Hildred, "  he  said,  sharply,  "1  hope  j'ou  do  not 
intend  to  repeat  this  morning's  performance.  If  you 
want  books,  take  them  upstairs  with  you.  It  is  like  a 
scene  from  a  French  drama,  to  open  the  hall  door, 
and  find  one's  wife  waiting  there." 

"It  was  quite  an  accident,"  she  replied.  "How 
can  you  imagine  it  to  have  been  otherwise?" 

He  appeared  rather  ashamed  of  his  harshness. 

"I  have  heard  so  many  stories,"  he  said.  "I  thought, 
perhaps,  that  someone  had  been  telling  you  that  I 
spend  whole  nights  at  billiards,  and  that  you  wished 
to  find  out  for  yourself  whether  it  was  true." 

"You  do  not  understand  me,"  she  returned,  haugh- 
tily, "if  you  think  that  I  would  allow  anyone  to  speak 
•  evil  of  you  to  me." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


153 


He  looked  pleased. 

"That  is  right,"  he  said.  "I  see  it  was  accidental. 
Do  not  let  it  occur  again,  Hildred.  I  should  not  like 
it.  After  all,  you  know,  liberty  of  action  is  the  one 
great  thing.    I  will  let  no  one  interfere  with  mine." 

"I  can  assure  you,  Lord  Caraven,"  she  answered, 
"that  I,  for  one,  shall  never  try  to  do  so." 

"That  is  right,"  he  said.  "If  you  keep  to  that  we 
shall  be  good  friends. " 


CHAPTER  XVII 


"i  AM  AN  UNLOVED  WIFE*' 

A  week  after  this  little  incident  Arley  Ransome 
called  to  see  his  daughter;  he  wished  to  congratulate 
her  on  her  success  in  society,  to  tell  her  all  •  that  he 
had  heard  in  her  praise,  and  how  his  most  sanguine 
dreams  were  being  realized.  As  the  father  of  Lady 
Caraven,  people  thought  it  worth  their  while  to  con- 
ciliate him.  He  was  invited  to  houses  where,  before 
this  marriage,  he  had  never  hoped  to  enter;  he  had 
been  made  welcome  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  Belgra- 
via  and  Mayfair.  What  was  even  better,  his  practice 
was  increasing.    Arley  Ransome  was  a  happy  man. 

He  was  shown  into  the  library,  where  the  young 
countess  sat  alone,  royally  beautiful,  in  a  close-fitting 
dress  of  black  velvet — velvet  that  fell  in  rich  folds 
and  swept  the  ground  around  her.  The  charming 
head  and  face  were  set  off  by  the  dark  drapery,  she 
held  a  book  in  her  hands,  but  she  had  not  read  one 
word  it  contained.  She  looked  up  when  her  father 
entered,  and  he  was  struck  by  the  despondency  of 
her  young  face,  the  weariness  of  her  dark  eyes,  the 
drooping  attitude.  He  went  up  to  her,  and,  as  usual, 
complimented  her.  She  was  looking  so  well,  so  beau: 
tif'vl,  he.  must  say,  and  what  a  success  she  hid 
achieved. 

154 


FROM   OUT  THE  GLOOM 


155 


No  smile  answered;  the  weariness  and  the  despond- 
ency deepened.  He  took  a  seat  by  her  side,  and  told 
her  all  that  he  thought  would  interest  her  most.  Was 
she  listening?  He  did  not  know,  lor  she  made  no 
reply  Suddenly — and  the  shock  of  it  quite  startled 
him  -  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "do  you  know  what  manner  of 
man  this  is  to  whom  you  have  sold  me?" 

"My  dear  Hildred,  hush!  Pray  be  more  guarded 
in  your  speech." 

"I  repeat,  do  you  know  what  manner  of  man  my 
husband  is?" 

"Oh!  nt)w  you  put  the  question  in  better  form,  I 
can  answer  it!  You  really  should  not  use  the  word 
'sold/  as  though  you  were  a  slave;  we  do  not  sell 
people  in  England." 

She  laughed — surely,  the  most  dreary,  the  saddest 
laugh  that  ever  fell  from  such  young  lips. 

"We  will  not  dispute  about  a  word,  papa.  Answer 
my  question — do  you  know  what  manner  of  man  my 
husband  is?" 

"I  know  that  the  earl  is  considered  a  very  handsome, 
fascinating  man  by  all  who  are  acquainted  with  him," 
lie  replied. 

"Handsome!"  she  repeated,  sorrowfully.  "What 
has  that  to  do  with  it?  Do  you  know  that  he  is 
utterly  incorrigible — that  he  spends  his  days  and 
nights  in  playing  and  betting — that  he  comes  home  at 
sunrise — that  he  neglects  every  duty?" 

"Little  foibles,  my  dear,"  he  replied,  quickly;  "you 
must  not  think  too  much  of  them." 


156 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


She  folded  her  hands,  and  they  lay  listlessly  on  her 
dress. 

"Little  foibles,  papa?  If  men  call  those  things  lit- 
tle foibles,  I  should  like  to  know  what  they  consider 
great  sins!'* 

"We  will  waive  that,  my  dear — it  is  not  a  matter 
for  discussion,"  said  the  lawyer,  almost  wishing  that 
he  had  not  called  on  that  particular  morning. 

But  she  was  not  to  be  silenced. 

"Did  you  know  what  he  was  when  you  allowed  me 
to  marry  him?"  she  continued. 

"I  knew  that  he  was  Lord  Caraven — and  surely  that 
was  enough — a  peer  of  the  realm,  a  man  of  ancient 
descent. M 

"Did  you  know  that  he  liked  gambling  and  betting 
better  than  anything  else  in  the  world?"  she  asked. 

"More  foibles.  All  men  have  their  weaknesses — 
those  are  his.    You  must  have  patience,  my  dear." 

"Did  you  know,"  she  continued,  "that  he  does  not 
even  like  me,  and  never  did?" 

"Nonsense,  Hildred!  You  have  all  that  you  require," 
he  said,  hastily. 

"And  a  dead  heart,"  she  murmured — "a  dead  heart! 
Papa,  did  you  remember  that  I  was  young,  and  that 
youth  lives  on  love?" 

"Nonsense!"  he  replied.  "You  have  grown  senti- 
mental through  having  nothing  to  do,  Hildred." 

"It  was  a  cruel  thing,  this  marriage.  I  was  so 
young — I  might  have  been  spared.  It  was  a  cruel 
deed." 

"My  dear  Hildred,"  said  Arley  Ransome,  growing 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


157 


alarmed,  "I  did  not  deceive  you.  I  never  told  you 
that  Lord  Caraven  loved  you.  He  asked  you  to  be 
his  wife;  there  was  nothing  said  about  love." 

"You  told  me  that  I  could  live  without  it,"  she  said, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"I  did,"  he  assented. 

She  struck  her  hands  together  with  passionate 
fervor. 

"I  cannot!"  she  cried.  "Heaven  help  me,  I  cannot! 
My  heart  is  empty,  my  heart  is  dead,  my  life  is  vain. 
You  deceived  me  when  you  told  me  that.  You,  my 
father,  who  should  have  saved  me — who  should  have 
taught  me  better — you  deceived  me,  and  I  wish  that  I 
were  dead!" 

"You  are  very  unreasonable,  Hildred,"  he  said, 
slowly. 

"What  have  I  to  live  for?"  she  cried.  "I  have  no 
one  to  love  me.  My  husband  is  a  stranger  to  me;  he 
values  me  less  than  his  horse  or  his  dog;  he  would  not 
miss  me  if  I  died  to-morrow,  he  has  my  money,  he 
does  not  want  me.  There  is  no  one  in  all  this  wide 
world  so  forlorn,  so  desolate  as  I  am." 

"You  forget  that  I  love  you,  Hildred." 

"No,  you  never  loved  me,  papa,"  she  declared.  "I 
am  quite — " 

"I  am  sure."  interrupted  Arley  Ransome,  "that  Lord 
Caraven  always  seems  kind  to  you." 

"Kind!"  she  repeated.  "He  does  not  beat  me;  he 
is  just  as  kind  to  his  favorite  dog  as  he  is  to  me! 
Kind!  That  is  not  the  relationship  that  should  be 
between  husband  and  wife;  he  does  not  love  me,  and 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


he  never  will.  Think  of  that — remember  how  young 
I  am,  how  lonely.  How  am  I  to  live  through  the 
stretch  of  years?  My  husband,  papa,  rarely  speaks  to 
me;  he  never  takes  the  least  interest  in  me.  I  do  not 
believe  that  if  I  fell  dead  at  his  feet  he  would  attempt 
to  raise  me  from  the  ground." 

"You  exaggerate,  my  dear;  it  will  all  come  right  in 
time,"  he  said,  soothingly. 

"It  will  never  come  right  for  me,  papa — and  you 
know  it." 

With  a  passionate  gesture  she  rose  up  from  her 
seat.  She  went  over  to  him  and  laid  her  hands  on  his 
shoulders.    She  raised  her  sad,  beautiful  face  to  his. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "I  am  frightened  at  myself.  I 
cannot  tell — I  dare  not  think — -how  it  will  end.  I  was 
indifferent  at  first,  but  now,"  she  continued  in  a  low 
tone,  "I  begin  to  dislike  him." 

"Oh,  my  dear,  that  is  very  wrong — very  wrong, 
indeed!  A  woman  should  never  dislike  her  husband!" 

''Should  a  husband  ever  dislike  his  wife?"  she 
asked.  "Because  my  husband  does  dislike  me.  I  am 
frightened  at  myself,  for  if  I  were  to  be  here  much 
longer  I  should  hate  him — hate  him  for  his  indolence, 
his  self-indulgence,  his  weakness  of  character — hate 
him,  because  through  him  my  whole  life  is  spoiled." 

"Hush,  Hildred!  I  will  not  listen  to  you.  You  are 
unreasonable.  You  have  everything  that  a  woman's 
heart  can  wish  for;  you  have  position;  you  are  sur- 
rounded with  luxury;  you  have  boundless  wealth. 
What  more  can  you  want?'* 

"I  have  all  that,  and  I  am  an  unloved  wife.    I  have 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


159 


all  that,  yet  I  would  change  places  with  the  poorest 
peasant  woman  whose  husband  loves  her." 

"That  sounds  well,  my  dear,  but  were  you  to  try 
it,  you  would  soon  change  your  opinion.  Now,  be 
reasonable,  Hildred.  Be  content  with  what  you  have; 
do  not  long  for  what  you  have  not.  I  wonder  at  your 
want  of  reason — your  want  of  sense.  You  are  like  a 
child  crying  for  the  moon.  How  many  girls  in 
England  would  have  been  glad  of  the  chance  to  be 
Countess  of  Caraven." 

"I  hate  the  title!"  she  said,  with  a  stamp  of  the 
foot. 

"You  are  in  a  passion,  Hildred.  You  are  not  your- 
self to-day.    I  am  sorry  that  I  called." 

With  an  imploring  gesture  she  held  out  her 'hands 
to  him. 

"Can  you  do  nothing  to  help  me,  papa — nothing?" 

He  looked  embarrassed  and  perplexed. 

"What  can  I  do,  my  dear?  I  can  speak  to  Lord 
Cc  raven,  but  I  have  grave  doubts  as  to  whether  that 
will  improve  matters.  It  is  never  a  wise  thing  to 
interfere  between  husband  yand  wife.  I  could  ask 
him  to  take  just  a  little  more  interest  in  you,  if 'you 
like." 

*'No!"  she  cried  vehemently.  "You  do  not  under- 
stand. I  mean,  help  me  that  I  may  not  hate  him — help 
me  that  I  may  be  more  patient.  If  I  hated  him,  I 
should  be  compelled  to  leave  him — and  I  am  draw- 
ing near  it  fast." 

'  You  must  not,  Hildred.  I  am  sure  he  is  very 
lovable." 


i6o 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"But  then  you  see  papa,"  she  objected,  "he  does 

not  love  me." 

"He  will  do  so  in  time.  Everyone  likes  Lord  Cara- 
ven.  He  is  called  'the  handsome  earl.*  I  assure  you, 
Hildred,  that  there  is  not  a  woman  in  London  who 
would  have  refused  him,  not  one." 

"I  wish  that  I  had  refused  him,"  she  said,  dream- 
ily. "Papa,  I  am  so  frightened  at  myself.  Do  you 
know  that  I  do  not  want  him  to  love  me  now?  I  am 
beginning  to  dislike  him — the  sound  of  his  voice  is 
positively  unpleasant  to  me.  I  would  far  rather  be 
broken-hearted,  longing  for  his  love,  than  be  what  I 
am  now.  I  should  be  a  better  woman  if  I  wept  for  his 
love,  instead  of  feeling  as  I  do  now  that  it  is  not 
worth  having.    My  better  self  is  dead." 

"My  dear  Hildred,  all  this  is  most  absurd.  You  J« 
not  know  what  you  want.  You  tell  me  that  your  hus* 
band  does  not  love  you — you  make  that  the  ground 
work  of  your  complaint — and  then  you  tell  me  you 
cannot  regret  his  want  of  love.  The  fact  is,  my  dear, 
you  are  not  yourself — you  are  over-tired.  After  your 
quiet  life  at  St.  Roche,  all  this  excitement  is  too 
much  for  you.  I  should  advise  you  to  keep  quie* 
for  a  few  days,  and  then  you  will  be  all  right." 

The  tragedy  of  sorrow  seemed  to  pass  from  her 
face. 

"Thank  you,  papa,"  she  replied.  Her  hands  tell 
listlessly.  "You  speak  as  you  think.  It  is  not  your 
fault  that  you  do  not  understand  me.  We  will  say  no 
more  about  it." 

"That  is  right,"  said  Arley  Ransome,  looking  great* 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


161 


ly  relieved.  "Now  you  speak  like  a  reasonable 
woman.  Philosophers  say  that  women  have  impulse 
but  no  reason — I  shall  begin  to  think  that  they  are 
wrong," 

He  talked  with  his  usual  brisk  cheerfulness  about 
many  indifferent  subjects,  and  then  took  his  leave. 
But,  although  he  had  silenced  his  daughter  he  was 
not  disposed  to  allow  this  kind  of  thing  to  continue, 
if  he  could  help  it.  It  would  end  badly — his  own 
knowledge  of  the  world  told  him  that.  So  he  called 
at  the  earl's  club,  and  there  he  found   him  as  usual. 

"I  have  just  been  to  Halby  House,"  he  said,  "and 
have  been  spending  half  an  hour  with  Hildred." 

The  earl  raised  his  eyebrows,  which  was  the  only 
mark  of  interest  he  thought  it  worth  his  while  to 
bestow. 

"I  did  not  think  that  she  looked  very  well,  and, 
what  was  worse,  she  did  not  appear  happy." 

"Women  never  do  unless  they  have  new  diamonds 
every  day,"  declared  the  earl. 

"I  do  not  think  that  Hildred  requires  new  diamonds; 
but  I  think  perhaps  that  if  you — " 

"I,"  interrupted  the  earl — "I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  it.  I  have  a  nervous  dread  of  people  who  do  not 
look  happy.  Pray  do  not  appeal  to  me.  Hildred  is 
all  right — I  see  nothing  to  complain  of." 

"I  should  not  like  to  see  anything  that  called  for 
complaint,"  said  Arley  Ransome,  sternly. 

"Speak  frankly,"  cried  Lord  Caraven;  "I  under- 
stand plain  English  Has  your  daughter  been  com« 
plaining  about  me?" 


i6a 


PROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"She  has  not,"  was  the  reply. 

"So  much  the  better  for  her,"  said  the  carl,  "and 

so  much  the  better  for  me." 

Arley  Ransome  owned  to  himself  that  the  events  of 
that  day  had  not  been  altogether  pleasant. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


"HEAVEN  HELP  ME,  FOR  I  AM    BEGINNING  TO  HATE  HIM" 

"Hildred,"  said  Lord  Caraven,  "Captain  Fane  will 
dine  with  us  this  evening.  Try  to  get  someone  else 
to  meet  him." 

She  was  in  the  library,  busily  engaged  in  writing 
letters  to  St.  Roche,  and  her  husband's  sudden 
entrance  startled  her.  It  was  a  bright  morning,  and 
the  sun  shone  on  her  graceful  head.  She  wore  a 
pretty  morning  costume,  dainty  white  lace  encircling 
the  white  throat  and  arms.  A  man's  heart  might 
have  warmed  to  her  with  exceeding  great  love — Lord 
Caraven's  did  not;  he  never  even  stopped  to  look  at 
her,  to  make  any  inquiries  about  her,  or  to  speak  a. 
few  words  of  kindly  greeting. 

"Captain  Fane  dines  with  us  this  evening,"  he 
repeated,  and  then  Hildred  laid  down  her  pen  and 
looked  into  his  face. 

"I  do  not  like  Captain  Fane,"  she  said,  quickly. 

"Possibly;  but  then,  you  see,  that  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  matter." 

He  spoke  quite  good-humoredly,  but  his  wife  saw  a 
slight  flush  on  his  face. 

"Captain  Fane,  you  may  be  surprised  to  hear,  was 
rude  to  me  when  I  saw  him  at  Lady  Redsley's  ball." 

"Indeed I    I  have  never  heard  anything  against  him 

163 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


of  that  kind.    If  he  really  was  rude,  you  must  have 

annoyed  him." 

"I  did  nothing  of  the  kind,  Lord  Caraven, "  she 
replied,  quietly. 

"What  did  he  do  or  say?"  he  asked. 

"I  decline  to  tell  you.  You  evidently  disbelieve 
what  I  say;  but  if  Captain  Fane  dines  here,  I  shall 
not." 

"That  is  as  you  wish,"  he  replied. 

"I  mean  it,  Lord  Caraven.  If  Captain  Fane  dines 
here,  I  shall  not  enter  the  dining-room." 

"Then  I  must  make  an  apology  for  your  absence, 
and  say  that  you  have  a  headache,"  he  replied. 

"I  will  give  no  orders  for  dinner  for  Captain  Fane," 
said  Hildred. 

"I  think  you  will,  Lady  Caraven;  if  not,  they  will 
be  given  for  you.  Mind,  there  is  a  limit  to  my 
patience — you  must  not  often  abuse  it.  It  is  plain 
that  you  dislike  Captain  Fane  because  I  like  him." 

"No,  it  is  not  so,  I  assure  you,  Lord  Caraven.  I  was 
told  not  many  days  since  that  Captain  Fane  was 
strongly  suspected  of  some  unfair  dealings  at  cards, 
and  would  be  requested  to  leave  your  club." 

"I  do  not  believe  it,"  he  said,  abruptly.  "It  is  mere 
gossip — it  is  not  true." 

"It  is  true,  for  the  Duchess  of  Morley  told  me. 
She  said  she  would  tell  me  whom  to  know  and  whom 
not  to  know;  among  the  latter  was  Captain  Fane." 

"It  11  nonsense,"  he  said,  but  he  began  to  fear 
there  might  be  something  in  the  story. 

"You  are  at  liberty  to  believe  or  to  disbelieve," 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


165 


returned  his  wife,  haughtily.  "I  will  say  no  more — 
only  that  I  refuse  distinctly  to   meet  Captain  Fane." 

The  earl  quitted  the  room  really  angry  at  last.  He 
was  naturally  of  an  even  temper.  He  was,  perhaps, 
too  indolent  to  be  of  any  other,  but  he  was  really 
angry  this  time. 

''A  school-girl  like  that  to  defy  me  in  my  own  house," 
he  said — "it  is  quite  unendurable." 

He  rang  for  the  housekeeper  and  gave  orders  for 
a  recherche  dinner.  , 

"She  shall  see,"  he  thought,  "that  those  airs  will 
not  do  with  me." 

Hildred  had  gone  to  her  room.  She  would  not  per- 
mit the  servants  to  know  that  there  was  anything 
wrong.  Her  only  resource  was  to  shut  herself  up  in 
her  room  and  leave  them  to  imagine  that  she  had  a 
bad  headache.  Shut  up  there,  she  heard  all  that 
passed.  She  heard  Captain  Fane's  arrival,  and  din- 
ner being  served.  She  heard  the  sound  of  laughter- 
then  came  a  silence  and  she  knew,  just  as  though  she 
had  been  present,  that  the  earl  and  his  guest  were 
playing  at  cards. 

Captain  Fane  did  not  leave  the  house  until  after 
two  in  the  morning,  and  then  Hildred  heard  her  hus- 
band go  to  his  own  room. 

She  was  deeply  mortified.  Of  how  little  use,  of 
how  little  value  she  was  in  that  house  after  all!  She 
expressed  decided  disapprobation  of  a  person,  and  he 
was  received  with  all  honor.  She  had  said  she  would 
not  enter  the  room  if  he  were  there;  he  came,  and  she 
was  compelled  to  remain  away.   She  had  no  influence, 


166 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


no  command—she  was  merely  a  cipher.  She  walked 
quickly  up  and  down  the  room,  her  beautiful  face  all 
flushed,  her  eyes   bright  with  anger,  her  fingers  inter* 

laced. 

"I  cannot  bear  it  much  longer,"  she  said.  "I  ani 
beginning  to  Kate  him — heaven  help  me,  to  hate  him  I 
What  shall  I  do?" 

That  night  no  sleep,  no  rest  came  to  her.  She  was 
thinking  hour  after  hour  what  she  was  to  do.  The 
prospect  before  her  frightened  her.  She  saw  no  light 
in  the  dark  clouds,  no  hope,  no  help — the  years 
stretched  out,  so  dark  and  dreary,  and  she  wept  the 
silent  hours  away.  She  felt  half  nervous  on  meeting 
her  husband  again;  although  there  was  no  love,  no 
affection  between  them,  still  it  was  not  often  that  they 
had  angry  words. 

It  was  the  close  of  the  afternoon  when  he  came  in, 
and  he  went  at  once  in  search  of  her. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  to  apologize,  to 
beg  your  pardon  for  my  want  of  civility  yesterday,  I 
am  afraid  that  I  lost  my  temper." 

She  bowed  with  cold  politeness. 

"Now,  Hildred,"  he  cried,  "I  will  not  be  put  off 
with  a  ceremonious  bow.  Do  you  know  that  the  fact 
of  quarreling  and  making  friends  with  you  again 
makes  me  feel  that  we  ought  to  be  on  the  best  of 
terms?  Do  not  bow  to  me,  say  that  you  accept  my 
apology. " 

"I  accept  it,"  she  replied;  "and  beg  your  pardon,  if 
I  have  displeased  you." 

"That  is  satisfactory.   Now  I  have  to  tell  you  that 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


I67 


you  were  right,  and  that  I  was  wrong.  Captain  Fane 
is  a  cheat  and  a  rogue.  I  won  a  hundred  pounds  from 
him  last  evening.  I  have  returned  it  to-day — I  would 
not  soil  my  fingers  with  his  money.  What  the  duchess 
told  you  was  quite  true — he  was  detected  cheating 
at  cards.  A  long  farewell  to  Captain  Fane!  He  was 
not  worth  quarreling  about — was  he,  Hildred?" 

"No,"  she  replied;  and  something  of  happiness,  to 
which  she  had  long  been  a  stranger,  sprang  up  in  her 
heart,  because  he  spoke  so  kindly  to  her. 

For  a  day  or  two  after  that  little  incident  matters 
were  more  pleasant  between  them.  Then  the  old 
indifference  came  back,  and  the  young  wife's  misery 
with  it. 

May  was  drawing  to  a  close,  when  Lord  Caraven 
one  evening  received  a  letter  which  appeared  to  give 
him  the  keenest  delight.  He  read  it,  and  then  went 
with  it  to  his  wife. 

"Hildred,  here  is  good  news;  but  I  am  too  hasty — 
perhaps  you  will  not  think  it  good  news." 

"If  it  pleases  you  so  much  I  shall,"  she  replied, 
gently. 

"You  have  heard  me  speak  of  njy  cousin,  Sir  Raoul 
Laureston,  the  'hero  of  a  hundred  fights?'" 

'"No,"  replied  Hildred.  "I  have  never  even  heard 
his  name.'' 

"That  seems  strange,"  said  the  earl. 

"Not  at  all,"  she  replied,  quietly.  "You  forget 
that  you  have  never  spoken  of  your  family,  to  me  at 
all.  I  do  not  know  the  name  of  a  single  relative  that 
you  have." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


He  looked  incredulously  at  her. 

"I  am  very  careless,"  he  said;  "but  I  did  not  think 
that  I  was  so  bad  as  that.  I  will  make  amends  now 
by  telling  you  about  Sir  Raoul  Laureston. " 

"Raoul,"  repeated  Hildred.  "Is  he — no,  he  cannot 
be  a  Frenchman,  Lord  Caraven,  if  he  is  a  relative  of 
yours. " 

"No,  but  the  name  has  puzzled  many  people.  His 
mother  was  a  French  lady  of  noble  birth,  and  one  of 
her  ancestors,  named  Raoul  de  Courcelles,  distin- 
guished himself  greatly  in  the  French  wars;  it  washer 
fancy  to  name  her  boy  after  him." 

Hildred  repeated  the  word  "Raoul." 

"I  like  the  name,  Lord  Caraven,"  she  said,  slowly. 

"And  I  like  the  name,"  he  told  her.  "I  do  not 
know  anyone  in  the  world  whom  I  like  better  than 
Raoul.  Yet  he  gives  himself  great  airs  with  me.  He 
is — you  will  laugh  when  you  hear  it — he  is  my  mas- 
ter— at  least  used  to  be  in  years  gone  by.  But  what 
I  wanted  to  tell  you  is  this — he  is  coming  back  to 
England,  and  he  has  always  made  his  home  at  my 
house;  he  has  never  lived  anywhere  but  at  Halby 
House  or  Ravensmere — never — and  I  hope  never  will." 

She  looked  up  at  him  wonderingly. 

"I  understand.    But  what  has  that  to  do  with  me?" 

He  looked  somewhat  confused. 

"After  all,  you  are  the  mistress  of  the  house,  the 
chatelaine,  and  I  should  not  like  to  ask  anyone  to 
make  their  home  with  us  who  would  be  at  all — now  let 
me  see  how  to  express  myself  diplomatically — who 
would  be  displeasing  to  you." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


169 


"Thank  you,"  she  said,  briefly. 

"After  all,  home — whether  it  be  happy  or  miserable 
—is  always  home,  and  I  should  not  like  to  make  yours 
really  uncomfortable.  If  you  say  that  Sir  Raoul  will 
be  in  your  way  at  all,  I  will  not  ask  him — if  you 
think  you  will  be  as  happy  with  him  as  without  him, 
then  I  shall  be  pleased  to  see  him  in  his   old  place." 

"I  thank  you  for  your  consideration,"  she  replied, 
with  dignity;  "but,  as  nothing  could  possibly  make 
what  you  call  'home'  more  unhappy  for  me,  and  the 
coming  of  a  stranger,  who  may  prove  a  friend,  will  be 
some  little  comfort,  I  say  unhesitatingly,  <Yes.,M 

He  looked  at  her  half  sadly. 

"Are  you  really  unhappy — really  not  happy?"  he 
asked. 

"If  living  where  no  friendly  face  ever  smiles  on  me, 
where  no  friendly  voice  ever  reaches  my  ear,  where  no 
one  cares  for  me  or  takes  the  least  interest  in  me,  be 
happiness,  then  I  must  be  very  happy,"  she  said,  bit- 
terly. 

"Is  it  so  bad  as  that?"  he  asked,  and  there  was  a 
shadow  of  pain  on  his  face. 
"It  is  worse,"  she  replied. 

Only  a  few  short  weeks  since  her  heart  would  have 
beaten  fast  with  happiness  to  hear  words  spoken  so 
kindly;  now  she  turned  away,  and  from  her  heart  to 
her  lips  rose  the  unspoken  prayer:  "Heaven  help  me, 
for  I  am  beginning  to  hate  him!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 


"the  brave  colonel  raoul  laureston 

The  name  of  Raoul  Laureston  was  known  through- 
out the  land;  he  had  proved  himself  to  be  a  hero. 
It  was  not  merely  in  government  dispatches  and  news- 
paper paragraphs  that  he  was  praised;  his  name  was 
on  men's  lips  when  they  gathered  together  and  talked 
of  Old  England's  glory  and  of  her  gallant  sons;  when 
they  told  how  English  soldiers  fought  and  died,  with 
the  strength  of  lions,  the  bravery  of  heroes,  they 
always  mentioned  the  brave  Colonel  Raoul  Laureston, 

He  was  not  wealthy — he  was  the  younger  son  of  the 
younger  branch  of  the  house  of  Caraven;  he  had  no 
great  patrimony;  his  whole  fortune  amounted  to  about 
five  thousand  pounds.  But  he  was  a  soldier,  born 
and  bred;  he  could  never  have  been  anything  else. 
He  was  as  brave  as  a  lion;  he  knew  not  fear.  They 
told  wonderful  stories  of  him  in  the  army — how  he 
had  saved  lives  while  his  own  life  was  in  peril;  how 
he  was  loved  and  worshiped  by  the  men  under  his 
command.  It  was  a  good  thing  to  belong  to  Raoul 
Laureston's  regiment;  he  never  forgot  any  man  serv- 
ing in  it;  he  had  the  interest  of  each  one  at  heart.  Many 
a  young  officer  who,  in  other  hands,  would  have  gone 
to  the  bad — would  have  ended  a  shameful  life  by  a 
shameful  death — with  him  became  a  good  and  brave 

170 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


171 


soldie*.  Jf3<4  fca<3  the  gift  of  winning  men's  hearts; 
his  wor is  were  few  but  eloquent.  Like  all  great  men, 
he  was  utterly  devoid  of  vanity  and  egotism;  in  his 
soul  there  was  no  room  for  small  vices. 

So,  among  a  world  of  commonplace  men,  he  had 
made  for  himself  a  name  and  fame.  When  the  red 
flag  of  war  was  unfurled,  and  every  home  in  the  land 
had  sent  its  sons  to  maintain  the  honor  of  Old  En- 
gland, Raoul  Laureston's  name  became  a  household 
word.  Mothers  whose  sons  were  at  the  war  wept  on 
hearing  it;  men  told  what  they  had  read  of  him,  and 
their  hearts  grew  warm  as  they  spoke.  Then  came  the 
battle  when,  at  the  head  of  his  regiment,  he  rode 
"into  the  jaws  of  death, 18  sword  in  hand,  his  brave 
face  shining  with  the  light  of  courage.  "Follow  me!" 
he  cried;  and  sword  in  hand,  he  closed  with  the  foe. 
Men  told  how  the  red  sunset  found  him  still  there. 
How  many  lives  he  had  saved  by  his  valor  none  could 
say.  There  were  other  brave  men  present  who  declared 
that  Raoul  Laureston  had  made  the  day  their  own. 

He  was  knighted  for  his  bravery,  and  then,  as 
though  fortune  did  not  know  how  to  lavish  sufficient 
favors  upon  him,  he  succeeded  to  a  large  fortune,  left 
to  him  by  a  comparative  stranger,  his  godfather.  But 
the  brave  soldier  never  quite  recovered  from  a  terrible 
wound  he  had  received  in  battle.  The  slightest  effort, 
the  least  exertion,  brought  on  an  attack  of  illness 
that  was  always  dangerous.  And  across  his  brow, 
just  over  the  right  temple,  was  a  deep,  red  scar,  left 
there  by  the  bayonet  of  a  foe.  He  was  sent  to  France 
and  to  Italy.  It  seemed  as  though  his  military  career 
was  ended. 


172 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


It  had  been  a  terrible  grief  to  him  to  have  to  give 
up  his  profession  and  live  abroad.  He  said  to  his 
doctors : 

"While  I  have  life  I  shall  hope;  the  health  and  the 
strength  I  have  lost  may  return  to  me — I  may  hold  a 
sword  again.    Heaven  is  kind." 

But  for  the  last  four  years  he  had  been  at  Nice,  and 
had  grown  weaker,  and  a  great  longing  had  come  over 
him  to  see  England  again. 

"If  I  must  die,"  he  said,  "let  me  die  there." 

And  seeing  that  the  home-sickness  was  a  bar  to  his 
recovery,  the  doctors  allowed  him  to  return. 

It  was  strange — the  journey  did  him  good;  he  was 
stronger  when  he  reached  London  than  he  had  been 
for  some  time.  Then  he  wrote  to  the  only  relative  he 
had — Lord  Caraven — asking  if  he  should,  as  usual, 
make  his  home  with  him.  He  had  not  heard  of  the 
earl's  marriage — Lord  Caraven  never  wrote  a  letter 
unless  he  was  compelled  to  do  so — and  Sir  Raoul  had 
not  read  the  notice  of 'it  in  the  English  newspapers. 
Had  he  known  of  the  marriage,  he  would  never  have 
dreamed  of  going  to  his  kinsman's  home. 

Hfe  heard  it  from  one  of  his  brother  officers,  who 
hastened  to  welcome  him  to  England,  and  was  at 
first  incredulous.  He  had  always  loved  the  handsome, 
willful  boy  who  looked  up  to  him  with  such  affection, 
and  it  had  been  a  bitter  source  of  trouble  to  him  to 
find  him  inclined  to  go  the  wrong  way  in  life.  Raoul 
Laureston  was  many  years  older  than  the  earl,  but 
they  had  always  been  good  friends.  In  his  light, 
frank  way  he  had  scolded  the  handsome  boy — now  he 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


173 


scolded  the  man.  He  had  done  his  best  to  exercise 
a  wise  control  over  the  earl.  There  were  times  when 
he  fancied  that  he  should  succeed — there  were  others 
wThen  he  knew  that  he  had  failed. 

It  was  with  positive  incredulity  that  he  heard  of  the 
marriage.  When  Major  Vandaleur  told  him  the  news, 
the  brave  soldier  refused  to  believe  it. 

"Caraven  would  never  have  married  without  telling 
me,"  he  said.  "He  has  not  written  to  me  for  years, 
but  he  would  have  written  if  that  had  been  the  case." 

"I  assure  you,"  declared  Major  Vandaleur,  "that  I 
was  present  at  the  ceremony.  He  was  married  at  St. 
George's,  Hanover  Square." 

"I  must  not  dispute  what  you  saw  with  your  own 
eyes,"  said  Sir  Raoul.  "That  granted  then,  whom 
has  he  married?" 

"A  Miss  Ransome,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"Ransome?    I  do  riot  remember  the  name." 

Major  Vandaleur  laughed. 

"No,  you  have  probably  never  heard  it — though 
there  are  few  young  men  in  the  army  who  could  say 
as  much.    Ransome  is  a  lawyer  and  a  money-lender." 

The  soldier's  face  fell. 

"A  money-lender!  You  cannot  be  serious!  Cara- 
ven marry  a  money-lender's  daughter!  I  cannot  believe 
it." 

Mlt  Is  true.  I  remember  the  lady's  name — Hildred 
Kansome.  I  did  not  see  her,  although  I  was  in  the 
church  during  the  marriage;  the  crush  was  so  great 
I  could  not.  The  bridegroom's  tall  head  towered 
above  the  crowd;  I  saw  a  vision  of  white  and  silver 
put  not  the  bride's  face  or  figure." 


574 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"A  money-lender's  daughter!   Is  she  beautiful,  Van- 

daleur?- 

"I  cannot  say;  I  have  never  seen  her.  Caraven  did 
say  that  she  was  an  unformed  school-girl.  It  was  a 
queer  marriage  for  our  handsome  friend." 

"Had  she  a  fortune?  Did  she  fall  in  love  with  him, 
or  what?" 

"Of  course  she  had  a  fortune — a  very  large  one,  I 
believe — some  say  two  hundred  thousand  pounds.  I 
know  one  thing — Caraven  was  utterly  ruined;  he  had 
not  a  shilling  to  fall  back  upon,  and  after  his  marriage 
he  appeared  in  full  feather.  Halby  House  has  been 
the  house  of  the  season;  and  I  am  told  that  Ravens- 
mere  in  its  magnificence  is  equal  to  a  palace.  He 
must  have  had  a  large  fortune  with  the  lady. ,J 

"I  hope  that  he  married  her  a  little  from  love," 
said  Sir  RaouL 

Major  Vandaleur  looked  at  him. 

"Lord  Caraven  had  been  going  steadily  to  the  bad 
for  many  years  past,"  he  remarked.  "I  do  not  think 
that  you  would  recognize  him — his  character,  I  mean; 
he  has  not  carried  out  the  promise  of  his  boyhood." 

"He  has  had  great  temptations,"  said  the  soldier, 
"and  no  occupation;  in  those  few  words  you  have  the 
cause  of  many  ruined  lives.  If  what  you  say  be  the 
case,  major,  I  shall  hesitate  about  going  to  Halby 
House.  I  have  always  made  my  home  with  the  boy 
because  I  loved  him;  but  a  wife  in  the  house  alters 
matters.    What  is  she  like,  this  Lady  Caraven?" 

"I  cannot  tell  you;  I  have  not  met  her.  The  only 
time  I  heard  her  discussed  was  on  her  wedding-day; 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


she  was  only  just  eighteen,  and  people  said  she  looked 
very  unhappy." 

"Only  eighteen!  And  when  was  he  married,  Van- 
daleur?  " 

"Last  year,  Laureston." 

"Then  she  is  only  nineteen  now;  that  is  very  young, " 
said  Sir  Raoul,  musingly.  "I  am  afraid  I  should  be 
an  interloper.  And  I  should  not  feel  at  home.  Cara- 
ven  is  very  fond  of  her,  I  should  say.  I  do  not  think 
that  I  shall  go  to  Halby  House." 

"You  have  plenty  of  money,"  returned  the  major, 
brusquely;  "why  not  buy  a  place  of  your  o*vn?" 

"I  would  do  so— that  is,  I  would  have  done  so  long 
ago,  but  that  I  am  uncertain  about  my  own  life;  it  has 
hung  upon  a  thread  so  long  that  I  have  never  dreamed 
of  anything  for  myself. v 

"I  ought  to  be  a  judge,"  said  the  major;  "and  I 
prophesy  from  your  appearance  that  you  will  grow 
better — not  worse." 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of 
a  note  for  Sir  Raoul. 

"It  is  from  Caraven,"  he  said,  as  he  hastily  broke 
the  seal. 

As  he  read  it,  his  whole  face  brightened,  a  light 
came  into  his  eyes. 

"I  knew  the  boy's  heart  was  in  the  right  place,"  he 
remarked.  "There  could  not  be  a  kinder  letter  than 
that.  He  will  not  hear  of  my  remaining  here  or  go- 
ing elsewhere.  I  am  to  go  to  Halby  House  at  once, 
where  everything  is  at  my  service,  and  his  wife  joins 
in  begging  me  to  go.  The  boy  is  not  changed,  you 
see.    His  heart  is  good." 


176 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


And  the  major,  having  some  little  respect  for  Sir 
Raoul,  forbore  to  tell  him  what  rumor  said  about  the 
handsome  earl  and  His  heart.  "I  shall  go,"  said 
Sir  Raoul — "this  has  quite  decided  me.  You  think 
I  am  right,  do  you  not?"  he  added,  seeing  a  strange 
smile  on  the  major's  face. 

"Certainly.  I  was  thinking  of  the  earl,  not  of  you;" 
and  long  after  the  two  friends  had  parted,  Major  Van- 
daleur  looked  very  grave. 

"It  is  like  going  into  a  wasp's  nest,"  he  said. 
"Raoul  is  a  noble,  simple-hearted  soldier.  He  will 
have  little  patience  with  the  earl — perhaps  even  less 
with  his  wife." 

No  such  thought  troubled  Sir  Raoul;  to  him  it 
seemed  quite  right  and  just  that  his  kinsman  should 
extend  the  hand  of  welcome,  that  his  wife  and  him- 
self should  beg  him  to  visit  them,  that  their  home 
should  be  his. 

"I  may  be  able  to*  do  him  some  good,"  said  Sir 
Raoul.     "Ulric  always  listened  to  me." 

So  he  was  full  of  hope  afe  he  drove  to  Halby  House. 

"What  will  this  young  wife  be  like?"  he  wondered. 
"A  money-lender's  daughter — nothing  very  noble  or 
brilliant;  but  Ulric  loved  her,  I  suppose.  She  will 
be  a  city  demoiselle.  Let  us  hope,  for  Ulric' s  sake, 
that  she  is  pretty  and  accomplished." 

He  caught  himself  wondering  more  than  once  what 
she  would  be  like,  and  then  he  laughed  at  himself  for 
his  pains. 

"I  have  so  few  relatives,"  he  said,  "that  the  fact  of 
finding  a  new  one  is  something  wonderful, " 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


177 


His  worn  face  flushed  with  emotion  as  the  carriage 
stopped  at  Halby  House. 

"When  a  man  has  but  a  few  friends,  he  knows  how 
to  value  them,"  he  said  to  himself.  "I  know  Ulric 
will  be  pleased  to  see  me  again.  M 


CHAPTER  XX 


"i  DO  NOT  LIKE  HER* 

The  earl  was  at  home  expecting  Sir  Raoul.  He 

was  shown  into  the  library,  and  there  in  a  few  moment* 
he  was  found  by  his  kinsman.  They  met  with  out 
stretched  hands  and  warm  words  of  greeting>  but  the 
earl  looked  sorrowfully  into  his  kinsman's  face. 

"You  have  suffered  very  much,  Raoul,"  he  said, 
quietly. 

"Yes,  and  never  thought  to  see  you  again.  You  are 
changed  too,  Ulric — I  feel  inclined  to  ask  where  is  the 
sunny-faced  boy  whom  I  loved  so  dearly?" 

Lord  Caraven  laughed  a  little  bitter  laugh. 

"The  truth  is,  Raoul,  I  have  not  turned  out  very 
well.  I  may  have  been  a  good  boy  but  I  have  scarcely 
made  a  good  man." 

"A  fault  acknowledged  is  often  half  amended,"  said 
Sir  Raoul. 

"Yes,"  admitted  the  earl,  carelessly;  "but  I  feel  no 
great  desire  to  amend — I  half  wish  that  I  did." 

"I  hear  wondrous  news,  Ulric — that  you  are  married. 
Is  it  true?" 

The  earl's  face  darkened,  as  it  generally  did  when 
any  mention  was  made  of  his  wife. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  gloomily.    "I  am  married." 

178 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


179 


MAnd  your  wife,  I  have  been  told,  had  a  large  fort- 
une." 

"That  is  true,"  he  said.  "Have  they  told  you  any- 
thing else?" 

"No,  except  that  she  was  Miss  Hildred  Ransome, 
the  great  lawyer's  daughter." 

"The  great  money-lender  and  schemer's  daughter," 
corrected  the  earl. 

"She  will  not  be  answerable  for  her  father's  faults. 
What  is  she  like,  Ulric,  this  young  wife  of  yours?  I 
never  had  a  sister,  and  my  mother  died  when  I  was  a 
boy.  It  will  be  quite  a  novelty  to  me  to  claim  kins- 
manship  with  a  lady." 

"All  novelties  are  not  agreeable  ones,"  was  the 
moody  reply. 

"This  one  will  be,  I  am  sure.  I  shall  be  quite 
proud  to  address,  'My  cousin.  Lady  Caraven."' 

"You  are  a  preux  chevalier,  Raoul — you  believe  in 
the  sex,"  said  the  earl. 

'  And  do  not  you,"  Ulric?" 

"No,  not  in  one  of  them.  The  fact  is,  I  feel  quite 
certain  that  you  will  not  like  my  wife,  and  it  annoys 
me." 

"Like  her?"  echoed  Sir  Raoul.  "How  strangely 
you  speak!  Certainly  I  shall  do  more  than  like  her, 
your  wife  and  my  cousin.  I  tell  you  that  the  thought 
of  seeing  her  is  a  positive  pleasure  to  me." 

With  hasty  steps  Lord  Caraven  walked  up  and 
down  the  room.  He  seemed  as  though  about  to  speak, 
but  then  stopped  abruptly.  He  stood  at  last  in  front 
of  his  cousin. 


i8o 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Raoul,"  he  said,  "I  am  not  good  at  keeping  s 
secret.    The  truth  is,  I  do  not  like  my  wife. " 

"Not  like  her,  Ulric!    You  are  jesting,  surely?** 

"I  wish  to  heaven  that  I  were!  I  know  I  am  a 
prodigal,  a  spendthrift;  but  I  think  sometimes,  now 
that  I  am  a  little  older,  that  I  might  have  been  a  bet- 
ter man  had  I  been  happily  married." 

"But,  if  you  did  not  like  her,"  said  Raoul,  with  an 
air  of  utter  astonishment,  "why  did  you   marry  her?" 

"That  is  the  question.  I  think  the  answer  is— 
because  her  father  wished  her  to  be  a  countess." 

"What  had  his  wish  to  do  with  you,  Ulric?" 

"Some  day  I  will  tell  you  all,"  he  replied.  "It  is 
not  a  pleasant  theme.  But,  with  all  my  faults,  I  dis- 
like deceit  and  I  would  not  have  you  think  that  you 
are  about  to  enter  upon  a  scene  of  domestic  felicity." 

"But  the  lady  herself,"  said  Sir  Raoul — "since  yon 
confide  in  me  I  may  speak — does  she  know  that  you 
do  not  love  her?" 

"Yes,  there  has  never  been  any  pretense  of  affection 
between  us." 

"Then,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  slowly,  "it  seems  to  me  that 
the  lady  herself  is  the  one  to  be  pitied — between  her 
father  and  you." 

"You  can  pity  her  if  you  like — she  can  hold  her 
own  remarkably  well,"  returned  the  earl.  "I  do  not 
want  to  talk  about  it,  Raoul.  Every  man  pays  the 
price  of  his  folly,  sooner  or  later — I  am  paying  it  now. 
I  do  not  care  ever  to  mention  the  matter  again,  but  I 
thought,  if  you  had  some  idea  of  entering  an  earthly 
Eden,  you  had  better  be  disabused." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


181 


"I  wish  that  it.  were  an  earthly  Eden,"  said  Sir 
Raoul,  slowly. 

"My  wife  brought  me  a  large  fortune — a  fortune  that 
saved  me  from  ruin — and  I  insist  always  upon  all 
respect  being  shown  to  her.  She  is,  as  she  ought  to 
be,  entirely  mistress  of  the  house.  I  am  always  par- 
ticular about  that.  Now  that  we  have  finished  with 
the  matter,  there  is,  perhaps,  one  thing  more  that  I 
should  say.  My  wife  will  be  pleased  to  see  you;  she 
will  make  you  very  welcome." 

"And  you  do  not  like  her?"  interrogated  Sir  Raoul. 

"Well,"  replied  the  earl,  "you  see,  she  is  not  my 
style — not  at  all  my  style.  I  like  fair  women — she  is 
dark;  beside,  I  never  think  that  a  man  loves  a  woman 
whom  he  is  compelled  to  marry." 

"You  were  compelled  to  marry  her,  then?"  said  Sir 
Raoul. 

"It  was  either  that  or  ruin — such  ruin  as  would  have 
left  me  penniless.  I  did  hesitate  for  some  time 
whether  I  should  purchase  a  revolver  or  marry  Miss 
Ransome. " 

"My  dear  boy,  why  did  you  not  send  to  me?" 

"There  are  things  that  a  gentleman  cannot  do," 
said  the  earl,  proudly.  "I  could  not  borrow  from  my 
friends." 

"People  have  different  ideas  of  honor — some  of 
them  are  very  strange  ones.  For  my  part,  I  should 
think  it  a  thousand  times  more  honorable  to  borrow 
from  an  old  friend  than  to  marry  a  girl  for  her  mcney, 
knowing  that  I  disliked  her." 

'The  alternative  was  forged  upon  m§,  Beside, 


i8a 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Raoul,  all  that  you  had  in  the  world  would  not  have 

been  sufficient." 

"Was  it  so  bad  as  that?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  it  could  not  have  been  worse.  Do  not  let  me 
be  a  hypocrite,  Raoul.  That  lesson  would  have  lasted 
some  men  their  lives — it  has  not  been  sufficient  for 
me.  I  do  not  think,  honestly  speaking,  that  I  am  one 
whit  a  wiser  man  than  I  was.  The  only  thing  is  that 
fortune  has  been  with  instead  of  against  me." 

"Poor  boy,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  pityingly;  "we  must 
hope  for  better  things.  Shall  I  see  your  wife  to-night?" 

"No,  I  think  not.  Lady  Caraven  has  gone  to  Co- 
vent  Garden — a  favorite  opera  of  hers  is  being  played. 
She  will  not  be  home  until  late.  You  look  very 
tired,  Raoul — I  should  advise  you  to  go  to  bed.  We 
shall  not  remain  many  weeks  in  London.  You  will, 
of  course,  go  to  Ravensmere  with  us?" 

"If  you  desire  it  ;  if  you  are  kind  enough  to  invite 
me.  I  shall  be  very  pleased.  I  might  have  twenty 
places  of  my  own,  but  none  of  them  would  seem  so 
much  like  home  as  Ravensmere." 

And  Sir  Raoul  laughed.  Fatigued  as  he  was,  he 
seemed  in  no  hurry  to  leave  his  kinsman. 

"I  am  rather  disappointed,"  he  said,  at  last.  "1 
had  hoped  that  I  should  see  my  new  kinswoman 
to-night. " 

Lord  Caraven  looked  incredulously  at  him. 

"I  can  hardly  believe  that  you  are  serious,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "Do  you  really  desire  so  much  to  see  my 
wife?" 

"I  do  indeed/'  replied  Sir  Raoul,  earnestly. 


PROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


183 


"I  do  not  understand  it,"  said  the  earl,  with  an 
amused  smile.  "You  are  slightly  curious  about  her 
personal  appearance?  Well,  I  am  not  a  judge,  as  I 
like  fair  people,  and  she  is  tall  and  dark.  These  are 
the  only  two  points  in  her  which  have  struck  me- 
Yes,  there  is  one  thing  more — she  sings  with  ravish- 
ing sweetness,  I  have  never  heard  a  finer  voice.  I 
think,  too,  that  she  has  a  will  and  spirit  of  her  own; 
but  I  repeat — though  I  did  not  intend  to  repeat  it — 
that  I  do  not  like  her." 

"Tall  and  dark."  Sir  Raoul  immediately  pictured 
to  himself  a  somewhat  forbidding,  masculine-looking 
girl,  with  a  hard  face  and  a  hard  manner.  He  was  half 
disenchanted.  None  but  himself  knew  how  he  had 
longed  all  his  life  for  sisters.  The  notion  of  a  woman 
—  a  delicate,  refined  lady — who  would  be  kind  to  him, 
was  blissful  to  him;  and  though  this  wife  of  the  earl's 
was  a  money-lender's  daughter,  she  might  be  feminine 
and  graceful. 

He  was  disappointed.  He  fancied  that  Lord  Cara 
ven  would  never  have  spoken  of  her  as  he  did  if  she 
had  been  what  he  had  hoped  to  find  her.  Farewell 
to  his  idea  of  the  sweet  companionship  of  a  delicate, 
refined  woman!  Farewell  to  his  idea  of  passing  long, 
pleasant  hours  with  the  earPs  young  wife!  He  remem- 
bered that  as  a  boy  Ulric  had  been  devoted  to  the  fair 
sex;  he  had  often  rallied  him  on  it.  He  remembered 
a  thousand  and  one  scrapes  into  which  the  boy  had 
fallen  from  his  propensity  to  flirtation.  He  knew  that 
his  cousin  had  been  called  "the  handsome  earl,  "and 
\he  only  satisfactory  conclusion  at  which  he  could 


184 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


arrive  was  that  the  girl-wife  must  be  displeasing  in 
appearance. 

"Tall  and  dark" — certainly  there  was  not  much  in 
that.  Sir  Raoul  retired  to  his  room,  slightly  disap- 
pointed and  disenchanted.  He  could  not  sleep;  by- 
gone scenes  in  his  own  life  rose  before  him.  It  was 
long  after  midnight  when  he  heard  the  roll  of  a  car- 
riage, and  then  the  soft  rustle  of  a  silken  dress,  as 
light  footsteps  passed  his  door. 

"That  is  the  young  countess,"  he  said  to  himself — 
"my  new  cousin — tall  and  dark." 


CHAPTER  XXI 


"IF  SHE  BE  NOT  FAIR  TO  ME  WHAT  CARE  I  HOW  FAIR  SHE  BE" 

The  earl  entered  Sir  Raoul's  room  early  in  the 
morning.  - 

"Raoul,"  he  said,  "I  have  just  come  to  say  that 
everything  must  go  on  as  usual.  Do  as  you  like;  get 
up  when  you  like;  go  out  when  you  like;  order  din- 
ner, luncheon,  breakfast,  at  any  time  you  will.  You 
must  not  make  any  difference  between  this  visit  and 
those  you  used  to  pay.  I  am  not  much  at  home  my- 
self." 

Sir  Raoul  laid  his  hand  on  the  young  man's  arm. 

"How  is  that?"  he  asked,  earnestly.  "Ulric,  is  not 
home  pleasant  to  you?" 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  it  is  not — not  very  pleasant. 
I  may  be  fanciful,  but  to  me  there  seems  always  a 
look  of  reproach  on  my  wife's  face,  That  is  not  the 
only  reason;  I  scorn  to  make  false  excuses.  I  find 
more  attraction  away  from  home  than  in  it.  Now  you 
will  be  happy,  Raoul?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  and  long  after  his  cousin  left  him 
Sir  Raoul  lay  thinking  what  he  could  do  to  make  mat- 
ters pleasanter  between  husband  and  wife. 

He  little  knew  with  what  pride,  indifference,  con- 
tempt, and  dislike  he  would  have  to  do  battle.  He 
knew,  too,  that  as  a  rule,  all  interference  between  hus- 

185 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


band  and  wife  was  worse  than  useless — that,  if  they 
quarreled  themselves,  they  would  allow  no  one  else  to 
interfere  in  the  quarrel.  But  this  was  not  a  mere 
quarrel — it  was  far  worse. 

"I  would  give  something,"  he  thought,  "to  restore 
harmony;  but  of  course  all  depends  on  what  she  is 
like." 

What  was  she  like?  After  being  at  the  opera  she 
would  not  rise  until  late,  he  felt  sure.  He  himself 
went  downstairs  early.  Sir  Raoul  liked  the  fresh 
morning  air. 

The  first  sound  that  fell  upon  his  ears  was  the  sing- 
ing of  a  bird  and  the  next  the  falling  spray  of  a 
fountain.  He  looked  around.  He  saw  then  what 
improvements  had  been  made  in  Halby  House.  A 
conservatory  had  been  built  out  from  the  breakfast- 
room,  long  and  wide — a  conservatory  that  was  almost 
an  aviary,  so  full  was  it  of  bright-plumaged  birds;  a 
fountain  stood  in  the  midst,  masses  of  brilliant  bloom 
glowed  upon  the  walls. 

"This  was  a  welcome  for  the  bride,"  thought  Sir 
Raoul.  "Perhaps,  however,  she  has  not  much  taste 
for  flowers. " 

No  one  seemed  to  be  about;  the  breakfast-table 
was  prepared,  but  there  was  no  one  to  preside.  Sir 
Raoul  looked  round;  he  thought  he  would  go  through 
the  conservatory,  and  perhaps  by  that  time  there 
would  be  some  news  of  breakfast.  He  opened  the 
glass  door,  and  walked  through  a  fairyland  of  sweet 
blossoms;  the  spray  of  the  fountain  fell  with  melo- 
dious music  into  the  clear  basin  below* 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


I87 


"How  beautiful!"  thought  the  simple  soldier. 

He  walked  on  until  he  saw  a  vision  that  suddenly 
struck  him  dumb.  At  the  end  of  the  conservatory 
was  a  large,  vine-wreathed  door;  the  green  leaves 
formed  a  perfect  screen,  and  against  them  stood  a 
figure  such  as  Sir  Raoul  had  never  seen  before  and 
never  afterward  forgot — a  tall,  graceful,  girlish  figure 
— a  figure  that  was  all  symmetry,  with  a  slender, 
graceful  neck,  white  as  snow,  lovely  shoulders,  round, 
white  arms,  draped  in  an  elegant  morning  dress. 

The  lady  was  standing  with  her  face  averted,  so 
that  he  could  not  at  first  see  it.  He  beheld  a  queenly 
head,  covered  with  masses  of  black,  shining  hair. 
He  stood  for  some  minutes  lost  in  admiration;  and 
then  with  a  deep  sigh  she  turned  slowly  round. 

If  he  had  thought  the  figure  beautiful,  he  was  even 
more  enchanted  with  the  face.  He  saw  dark,  star-like 
eyes,  fringed  with  long  lashes  and  an  imperial  brow; 
he  saw  a  mouth  that  was  like  a  pomegranate-bud, 
fresh,  red  and  indescribably  lovely;  he  saw  a  splen- 
did face  oval  in  contour,  and  with  the  exquisite  color- 
ing that  Titian  gives  in  his  pictures,  dainty  and  brill- 
iant.  Yet  over  the  beauty  of  the  face  sadness  hung 
like  a  veil.  He  saw  the  glow  of  a  scarlet  geranium  in 
the  bodice  of  her  dress,  and  one  in  the  dusky  depths 
of  her  jet-black  hair. 

That  it  was  the  money-lender's  daughter  never  for 
a  moment  entered  his  mind — that  he  saw  before  him 
his  cousin's  wife  never  occurred  to  him.  This  beauti- 
ful girl  was,  of  course,  a  visitor,  like  himself — one  of 
Lady  Caraven's  friends,  he  thought  to  himself,  half 


1 88 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


sadly.  It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  with  this  glorious 
young  beauty  near  to  distract  him,  that  the  earl  did 
not  care  for  his  wife. 

He  went  forward  to  speak  to  her,  and  then  for  the 
first  time  she  was  conscious  of  his  presence.  She 
raised  her  dark  eyes  and  looked  at  him.  There  are 
moments  in  life  not  to  be  forgotten — this  was  one. 
The  dark  eyes  appeared  to  look  right  into  his  heart, 
and  he  seemed  to  recognize  the  soul  that  shone 
through  them.  She  walked  up  to  him,  still  looking 
at  him,  as  though  drawn  by  magic  to  him,  his  eyes 
half  smiling  into  the  depths  of  hers.  He  bowed  at 
her  approach. 

She  looked  for  one  half  minute  into  the  worn, 
scarred,  noble  face. 

"I  cannot  be  mistaken,"  she  said,  holding  out  both 
her  hands  in  welcome.  "You  must  be  Sir  Raoul 
Laureston. " 

"I  am,"  he  replied,  taking  the  delicate  hands  in 
his  with  chivalrous  empressement.     "And  you?" 

"And  I?"  she  said,  with  a  charming  smile  and  a 
look  of  pretty  astonishment.    "I  am   Lady  Caraven." 

In  the  shock  of  his  surprise  he  dropped  her  hands. 
This  Lady  Caraven,  the  unformed  school-girl,  the 
unloved  wife,  "tall  and  dark,"  one  whom  he  would 
not  like — this  splendid  woman!  What  had  the  earl 
meant  by  it?  Sir  Raoul  was  so  startled  that  the  shock 
kept  him  silent;  and  she,  noticing  this,  thought  that 
'he  was  disappointed  in  her. 

"Lady  Caraven,"  he  said,  at  last — "my  kinswoman! 
Do  you  kiK)w  that  I  can  hardly  believe  it?" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Why  not?"  she  asked  simply. 

"Because  I  expected  to  see  someone  quite  different." 
"And  you  are  disappointed?"    she  said,  slowly,  half 
sadly. 

His  face  lighted  up  eagerly. 

"Nay,  how  can  you  say  so?  I  am  charmed,  de- 
lighted. I  cannot  believe  in  my  own  good  fortune  in 
having  so  fair  a  cousin." 

"Are  you  quite  sure?"  she  asked.  "For  I  fear  that  I 
have  disappointed  most  people." 

"I  am  indeed,  sure,"  he  replied,  and  looking  into 
his  face  she  could  not  doubt  it. 

"You  are  Sir  Raoul?"  she  continued.  "I  have  been 
longing  to  see  you  ever  since  I  heard  that  you  were 
coming.  Will  you  let  me  bid  you  a  thousand  welcomes 
home?  " 

He  repossessed  himself  of  her  hands  and  clasped 
them  warmly. 

"You  are  a  brave  soldier,"  she  said — "a  hero.  Again 
let  me  bid  you  welcome  home!" 

"That  is  the  sweetest  welcome  I  have  ever  had,"  de- 
clared Sir  Raoul.  "I  shall  not  forget  it."  The  fair  face 
was  smiling  at  him,  the  lovely  eyes  were  full  of  wel- 
come, the  ruby  lips  smiling  kindly.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  her  whole  heart  was  in  the  greeting  she  gave  him. 
And  Lord  Caraven  had  said  that  he  did  not  like  this 
most  charming  and  lovely  girl! 

"You  are  looking  very  ill,  Sir  Raoul,"  she  said; 
'you  will  want  nursing  and  taking  care  of.  You  must 
be  well  tended,  and  then  you  will  grow  strong." 

He  touched  his  breast  lightly  with  his  hand — that 
noble  breast,  the  home  of  a  noble  soul. 


i  go 


PROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  shall  never  be  very  strong,  I  fear.  Lady  Cara- 
ven,  I  would   give  all   my   fortune   for  health — but 

heaven  knows  best. " 

The  dark  eyes  were  full  of  womanly  sympathy  and 
compassion;  they  rested  kindly  on  him. 

"You  are  going  to  remain  here,"  she  said;  "to  make 
your  home  with  us?" 

"I  hope  so,"  he  responded,  heartily.  "I  have  no 
other  home.    This  would  indeed  be  one." 

She  had  drawn  nearer  to  him — so  near  that  the  deli- 
cate lace  on  her  dress  touched  him. 

"I  am  so  glad,"  she  said,  in  her  soft,  caressing 
tones;  "and  will  you  really  let  me  take  care  of  you 
just  as  though  you  were  my  own  brother  come  home 
from  the  wars?"  • 

"Have  you  a  brother?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  she  replied;  "I  am  an  only  child." 

"And  I  have  no  sister.  I  have  always  wished  for 
one.  When  I  was  a  strong  man .  who  did  not  know 
what  aches  and  pains  meant,  I  used  to  wish  that  I 
had  a  woman's  gentle  mind  and  heart  to  guide  me; 
when  health  and  strength  left  me,  when  I  became 
almost  helpless,  I  longed  for  the  gentle  hands  of  a 
woman  near  me;  but  my  longing  was  never  gratified. " 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  smile. 

"You  should  have  looked  for  a  wife,  Sir  Raoul." 

She  repented  of  her  words  when  she  saw  the  terri- 
ble change  that  came  over  his  face. 

"A  wife?  No ;  I  shall  never  have  a  wife.  I  wanted 
a  sister." 

"You  must  let  me  take  a  sister's  place,"  she  said 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


IQI 


gently.  "You  do  not  know  what  your  coming  means 
to  me.  It  will  give  me  what  I  need  so  sorely — an 
occupation.  You  will  let  me  nurse  you  when,  you  are 
ill,  wait  upon  you,  read  to  you — tend  you  in  all  ways?" 

"1  am  afraid  that  you  will  spoil  me,  Lady  Caraven." 

"No;  but  I  will  try  to  make  you  well  and  strong 
again.  Do  you  really  promise  me  that  I  may  do  this?" 

His  pale  face  flushed. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "that  you  really  embarrass 
me?  I  feel  as  though  some  fair  young  princess  were 
offering  to  take  charge  of  me.  How  can  I  thank  you? 
It  seems  to  me  that  the  desire  of  my  heart  is  gratified. 
I  have  a  kinswoman  to  love  at  last." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  walked  with  him 
into  the  breakfast-room. 

"You  ought  not  to  have  risen  so  early,'1  she  said; 
"and  now  you  must  atone  for  that  by  taking  some  of 
my  tea.    I  pride  myself  on  being  a  good  tea-maker." 

Looking  at  her  he  thought  that,  if  she  prided  her- 
self on  her  exquisite  grace  and  her  girlish  loveliness, 
it  would  be  only  natural.  He  was  perfectly  charmed 
with  her;  she  was  modest  and  unaffected;  there  was  a 
certain  grace  in  her  frank,  kindly  manner  which  made 
it  impossible  not  to  feel  at  home  with  her. 

He  was  entirely  so;  and  he  smiled  to  himself. 
They  were  seated  at  the  table  as  though  they  had 
known  each  other  for  years. 

"But  surely,"  he  said,  "we  are  remiss.  We  are  not 
waiting  for  Ulric." 

Her  expression  changed  slightly,  as  it  always  did  at 
the  mention  of  her  husband's  name. 


I Q2 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Lord  Caraven  never  takes  breakfast  here,"  she 
said,  slowly.    "Our  hours  are  not  the  same." 

"Then  he  is  a  bad  judge, "  remarked  Sir  Raoul.  "I 
would  far  rather  take  breakfast  here  than  anywhere 
else  in  the  world." 

To  this  Lady  Caraven  made  no  reply. 

Before  that  day  was  half  ended  Sir  Raoul  was  lost 
in  wonder.  How  was  it  that  the  earl  did  not  love  this 
beautiful  girl?  He  himself  was  charmed  with  her;  he 
thought  her  delightful. 

"Talk  of  an  unformed  school-girl!"  he  cried,  indig- 
nantly. "If  Ulric  calls  her  a  school-girl,  I  should  like 
to  see  whom  he  calls  a  beautiful  woman!  She  is 
enchanting!  She  is  fire  and  snow;  she  is  humble,  yet 
proud — haughty  yet  gracious.  She  has  character 
enough  for  a  dozen  school-girls,  and  they  would  all 
be  above  the  average.  I  did  not  think  a  man  could 
be  so  blind." 

He  had  reason  to  know  that  she  was  as  tender  of 
heart  as  she  was  fair  of  face,  for  that  same  morning 
the  old  pain  in  his  chest,  the  enemy  that  had  laid 
him  low,  returned  with  redoubled  violence.  He  was 
ghastly  white  and  trembled  with  pain.  Then  he 
learned  what  the  gentle  hands  of  a  woman  were  like. 
She  showed  no  fear,  no  agitation.  She  was  calm,  ten- 
der, self-possessed.  In  one  moment  she  had  gathered 
soit,  downy  pillows  together  on  a  couch  so  as  to 
support  him. 

"You  will  breathe  more  easily,  Sir  Raoul,  if  you 
lie  there,"  she  said. 

It  was  a  pitiful  sight — the  strong,  handsome  man; 


FROM   OUT  THE  GLOOM 


193 


the  gallant  soldier,  the  brave  officer,  the  hero  of  a 
hundred  fights,  lying  there  gasping  for  breath,  great 
drops  of  anguish  standing  on  his  brow — a  sight  to 
make  a  man  shudder  and  a  woman  weep. 

There  was  no  haste  in  her  manner — no  agitation 
such  as  renders  the  kindest  of  women  useless  when 
they  are  most  needed.  She  helped  to  place  him  on  the 
couch,  she  laid  the  poor,  helpless  head  on  soft  pil- 
lows, she  fetched  some  fragrant  essence,  and,  kneeling 
by  his  side,  bathed  his  face.  She  did  not  weary  hirn^ 
by  speaking  or  by  useless  expressions  of  sympathy. 
She  watched  the  white,  parted  lips,  and  gave  him 
wine.  When  the  terrible  paroxysm  had  passed  he 
opened  his  eyes,  all  dimmed  and  dull  with  pain. 

"See  what  war  can  do,"  he  said,  slowly.  "You  are 
very  good  to  me.    It  is  coming  again." 

Again  she  helped  him,  never  once  losing  her  self- 
control. 

"Is  it  gone?"  she  asked,  as  the  tension  of  pain 
passed  from  his  face  and  his  hands  were  unclinched. 

"Yes,  thank  you.  I  did  wisely  to  wish  for  a  woman's 
gentle  hands.    I  am  grateful  to  you." 

Then  he  told  her  how  fiery  the  ordeal  had  been 
through  which  he  had  passed. 

"Can  you  imagine,"  he  said,  "what  it  is  to  me,  a 
once  strong  man,  a  soldier,  with  all  a  soldier's  long- 
ing for  action — can  you  imagine  what  I  feel  at  having 
to  spend  the  greater  part  of  my  time  on  a  couch? 
The  very  manhood  within  me  recoils  from  it.  I  am 
always  dreaming  of  what  I  could  do  if  I  were  strong 
and  well.    I  dream  sometimes  that  I  am  on  my  favor- 


194 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


ite  charger,  sword  in  hand.  I  see  the  foe  flying  before 
me,  and  I  am  in  hot  pursuit.  I  wake  to  find  it  a 
dream,  and  to  feel  the  red-hot  rings  of  pain  that  seem 
to  bind  me.  I  ask  myself  why  is  it?  Then,  soldier 
and  man  as  I  am,  bow  my  head  and  say,  'Heaven 
knows  best.'" 

She  was  looking  at  him  with  dark,  tender  eyes. 

"Have  all  lives  such  sorrow  and  care,  Sir  Raoul?" 
she  asked.    "Is  no  one  free?" 

"I  think  not — the  young  and  the  beautiful,  the 
great  and  the  wealthy,  the  highest  in  rank,  all  seem  to 
have  their  sorrows.  I  often  think  the  greatest  are 
those  that  we  see  the  leasf  of." 

"Why  is  it?"  she  asked,  thoughtfully. 

"How  many  times  have  I  asked  the  same  question  of 
myself!  I  should  say  that  souls  require  suffering  to 
purify  them  as  gold  does  the  fire." 

"I  am  quite  sure,"  she  said,  raising  her  face  to  his, 
"that  I  should  be  better  always  for  being  happier. " 

"It  is  natural  enough  to  think  so — I  am  not  sure 
that  it  is  true.  There  are  noble  qualities  latent  in 
most  people;  suffering  draws  them  out.  But  you,  young 
and — pardon  me,  my  kinswoman — beautiful,  should  not 
want  to  be  happier  than  you  are." 

She  made  him  no  answer,  but  the  dark  eyes  drooped 
sadly.  If  he  knew,  if  he  only  knew,  the  secret  history 
of  her  life ! 

That  day  passed  so  quickly  and  so  pleasantly  to  Sir 
Raoul  that  he  could  not  realize  his  new  existence. 

When  the  pain  had  left  him,  and  he  was  able  to  sit 
up,  she  brought  him  books  and    photographs;  she 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


195 


talked  to  him  and  amused  him;  she  made  the  time 
pass  so  quickly  that  he  marveled  at  her  quick  intelli- 
gence, her  womanly  wit.  There  was  a  touch  even  of 
genius  in  her  noble,  keen  appreciation  of  art,  in  her 
passionate  love  of  music.  Then  a  dainty  little  lunch- 
eon was  brought  to  him,  after  which  she  insisted  on 
his  driving  out  with  her. 
Sir  Raoul  laughed. 

"I  shall  begin. to  think  that  I  am  a  carpet  knight," 
he  said. 

"The  hard  work  went  before  it,"  rejoined  Hildred. 
"  You  will  enjoy  a  drive,  Sir  Raoul — the  sun  is  warm 
and  the  air  is  mild." 

He  sat  by  the  side  of  the  beautiful,  tender-hearted, 
graceful  girl,  and  they  found  a  hundred  subjects  of 
conversation.  The  fragrant  air,  the  warm  sunbeams, 
the  beautiful  face,  the  sweet,  caressing  voice,  all 
greatly  affected  Sir  Raoul.  Then,  when  they  returned, 
she  bade  him  adieu  until  dinner-time.  He  looked  at 
her  half  anxiously. 

"How  do  you  employ  your  time  when  you  have  no 
visitors?"  he  said.  "You  have  busied  yourself  with 
me  the  whole  day. " 

"I  do  the  best  I  can,"  she  replied.  "Sometimes  I 
have  engagements — callers.  I  try  to  study/  but  I  am 
afraid  I  spend  a  great  deal  of  time  in  thinking.  This 
morning  when  you  came  to  me  in  the  conservatory,  I 
had  been  standing  there  more  than  an  hour,  thinking 
idle  thoughts." 

"But,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  "does  not  Caraven  ever 
spend  a  morning  with  you  at  home?" 


196  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

He  noticed  the  same  change  come  over  her  face  as 
came  over  it  before  when  she  heard  her  husband's 

name. 

"No,"  she  replied,  briefly,  turning  away;  "we  meet 
at  dinner-time,  not  before." 

He  thought  long  and  anxiously  after  she  had  gone. 
How  strange  it  was  that  Caraven,  always  delighting 
in  beautiful  women,  could  not  care  for  her!  What  a 
sad  thing!  -  Both  so  young,  with  every  fair  gift  of  life 
before  them,  every  gift  the  world  could  bestow 
lavished  on  them,  yet  miserable  because  they  did  not 
love  each  other — husband  and  wife,  sworn  to  love  and 
honor  each  other,  yet  further  apart  than  strangers — 
even  disliking  each  other!    It  seemed  to  him  pitiful. 

"I  wonder,"  he  thought,  "if  I  could  do  anything? 
If  I  could  only  restore  peace  and  harmony  to  them,  I 
should  not  have  lived  in  vain." 

Could  he?  It  was  early  yet  to  judge.  He  must  see 
them  together,  then  he  could  tell  better.  He  must 
study  them  both  and  see  what  it  was  possible  to  do. 

The  first  dinner-bell  had  rung  when  the  earl  returned, 
and  Sir  Raoul  did  not  see  him  until  dinner-time. 
Lady  Caraven  was  the  first  to  enter  the  drawing-room, 
where  Sir  Raoul  awaited  her.  She  looked  very  lovely 
in  her  evening  dress.  It  was  of  white — white  that 
shone  and  gleamed — with  picturesque  patches  of  scar- 
let. She  wore  scarlet  and  white  flowers,  with  a  suite 
of  opals.  He  had  thought  her  beautiful  before,  but 
now,  with  her  white  neck  and  shoulders  and  rounded 
arms  all  shown,  she  looked,  he  thought,  magnificent. 

Her  face  brightened   when   she   saw   him.  How 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


197 


strange  it  seemed  that  a  kindly  smile  should  greet  her 
in  those  cold  rooms! 

"It  seems  so  novel  and  so  strange,  Sir  Raoul,"  she 
said,  "to  find  a  kind  face  here." 

"It  ought  not  to  seem  so,"  responded  Sir  Raoul, 
warmly. 

Then  the  earl  came  in.  He  passed  his  wife  with  a 
silent  bow,  never  once  looking  at  her,  and  she  drew 
aside  the  skirts  of  her  robe  to  let  him  go  by.  Sir 
Raoul  could  not  help  noticing  that  she  seemed  to 
dread  lest  they  should  even  touch  him.  There  was 
not  much  hope  of  love  or  reconciliation  there.  Lord 
Caraven  went  over  to  him  at  once,  shook  hands  with 
him  warmly,  and  asked  him  how  he  had  spent  the  day. 

"Very  happily,  thanks  to  Lady  Caraven,"  he  replied 
— "she  has  been  all  kindness  to  me." 

The  earl  looked  both  pleased  and  impatient. 

"You  certainly  seem  better,"  he  remarked.  "We 
shall  have  you  well  yet,  Raoul. " 

"Please    heaven,"    said    the    soldier,  reverently. 
"And  when  I  am  well  I  shall  rejoin  my  regiment." 

Sir  Raoul   saw  that,  instead  of  joining  in  the  con- 
versation, Lady  Caraven  walked  away  to  the  other  end 
of  the  drawing-room,  never  paying  the  least  attention 
to  her  husband — her  behavior  was  cold,  indifferent, 
neglectful,  as  his  had  been  to  her. 

"I  will  tell  you  one  thing,  Ulric,"  he  said;  "if  I  do 
recover  I  shall  owe  something  to  your  wife — she  is 
the  kindest  nurse  I  have  ever  met  with." 

"Is  she?"  asked  the  earl  languidly. 

"If  ever  you  fall  ill  yourself  you  will  believe  it, 
Ulric" 


198 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  hope  I  n6Ver  shall,"  returned  the  earl;  "if  I  do, 
I  shall  not  expect  the  Countess  of  Caraven  to  nurse 
me." 

"Ulric,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  in  a  low  voice,  "what 
induced  you  to  tell  me  that  your  wife  was  tall  and 
dark — nothing  more?" 

"So  she  is,"  he  replied. 

"Soldiers  are  pretty  good  judges — they  see  the  women 
of  many  lands — believe  me  when  I  say  that  I  have 
never  met  or  seen  a  more  beautiful  woman  than  your 
wife. " 

"'If  she  be  not  fair  to  me,  what  care  I  how  fair  she 
be?,M  quoted  the  earl.  "I  am  glad  you  think  so.  I' 
do  not  admire  her  style  of  beauty.  If  anyone  else 
does,  so  much  the  better — I  do  not  object.  There  is 
the  bell.  Isn't  it  dreadful  that  the  sound  of  the 
dinner-bell  has  a  greater  charm  for  me  than  the  dis- 
cussion of  a  lady's  beauty?" 

Lady  Caraven  hastened  forward.  Her  husband  said 
something  to  her;  she  answered  him  with  a  cold, 
haughty  look.  Sir  Raoul  spoke;  it  was  quite  another 
face  that  she  turned  to  hiffi — brilliant,  tender,  beauti- 
ful. She  begged  him  to  take  her  arm.  He  looked  at 
her  laughingly. 

"It  would  be  cruel  to  take  so  fair  an  arm,"  he  said, 
"with  a  strong  one  like  Ulricas  near." 

"Mine  is  strong  with  good  will,"  she  said,  smiling. 

And  Sir  Raoul  could  not  refuse.  He  leaned  as  lightly 
as  possible  on  the  lovely  round  arm,  but  his  heart 
was  warmed  by  her  kindness. 

Then  he  set  to  wprk  resolutely  to  watch  her,  to  see 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


199 


if  in  any  respect  she  was  deficient.  He  could  not  dis- 
cover anything.  She  took  her  place  with  consummate 
grace.  She  was  well  versed  in  all  the  etiquette  of  the 
table;  she  was  a  charming  hostess.  He  saw,  too, 
that,  with  all  her  wealth  and  all  her  beauty,  she  was 
an  excellent  mistress  of  the  household;  her  servants 
were  well  trained  and  obedient. 

"I  do  not  see  myself,"  thought  Sir  Raoul,  "what 
more  Ulric  can  desire." 

He  could  detect  no  fault  in  her;  but  he  did  stop  to 
wonder  what  their  dinners  must  be  like  when  they 
were  quite  alone. 

The  earl  might  have  guessed  the  nature  of  his 
thoughts,  for  he  said,  suddenly: 

"We  had  some  friends  coming  to-night,  but  I  post- 
poned their  visit,  thinking  that  you  would  be  tired, 
Raoul.    We  never  dine  alone." 

The„young  countess  made  no  remark.  Sir  Raoul 
saw  that  she  had  plenty  of  self-control;  no  matter  how 
sarcastic  or  bitter  her  husband  was,  she  was  never 
provoked  to  reply. 

"She  has  that  virtue,"  he  said  to  himself,  "self-con- 
trol— and  it  is  a  sure  foundation  for  many  others." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"the  whole  world  has  gone  mad  together" 

Sir  Raoul  Laureston  had  been  for  three  weeks  at 
Halby  House;  during  that  time  he  had  grown  to  love 
the  young  countess  as  though  she  had  been  a  sister 
of  his  own.  In  proportion  as  his  love  for  her  increased, 
his  affection  for  the  earl  decreased.  In  one  he  saw 
self-control,  in  the  other  unbridled  self-indulgence. 
He  thought  over  and  over  again  that  so  fair  a  girl 
deserved  a  better  fate.  He  had  also  become  less  san- 
guine as  to  the  reconciliation  of  husband  and  wife, 
less  hopeful  about  it,  and  he  wondered  less  at  their 
estrangement.  The  handsome  boy  whom  he  had 
loved  so  dearly  was  indeed  changed.  He  seemed  to 
have  completely  lost  sight  of  the  higher  ends  of  life. 
Duty  was  a  dead  letter  to  him.  Self-indulgence, 
pleasure,  gaming,  betting,  and  horse-racing  filled  up 
his  time  to  the  total  and  inexcusable  neglect  of  the 
beautiful  young  wife  who  bore  his  name.  Indeed, 
after  Sir  Raoul  arrived  he  neglected  her  more  than 
ever.  He  had  been  accustomed  to  escort  her  to  all 
public  places,  but  he  now  went  his  own  road,  saying 
to  himself  that  she  was  "all  right" — Raoul  was  there, 
Raoul  would  attend  to  her. 

They  agreed  very  well  together;  but  then  Raoul  was 
always  different  from   other  men — a  preux  chevalier. 

200 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


20 1 


For  whole  days  together  the  earl  did  not  see  his  wife, 
and  oftener  now  than  ever  he  dined  from  home. 
There  were  times  when  Hildred's  youth  and  pride  rose 
in  hot  rebellion  against  her  fate,  when  she  could  not 
endure  to  remember  that  the  gallant  soldier  and  hero 
was  a  witness  of  all  the  slights  and  humiliations  to 
which  she  had  to  submit,  when  she  felt  that  she  must 
run  away  from  it  all,  for  it  was  utterly  unbearable. 

One  evening  the  earl  was  more  than  usually  disa- 
greeable. Some  friends  were  dining  with  them,  and 
during  dinner  Lord  Caraven  began  to  speak  of  one  of 
his  acquaintances  who  had  gone  abroad  for  his  honey- 
moon. 

"Another  added  to  the  long  list  of  victims,"  he 
said — "another  name  written  on  the  scroll  of  folly. 
He  was  a  man  who  had  everything  he  desired,  yet  he 
got  married — I  want  a  word  for  such  folly." 

"Ulric,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  sharply — "pardon  me — that 
is  not  the  way  a  married  man  should  speak." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  the  earl,  laughingly — "it  is  only 
a  married  man  who  can  speak  so.  You  outsiders 
know  nothing  of  the  matter.  'Distance  lends  enchant- 
ment/ you  know." 

Sir  Raoul  saw  a  crimson  flush  mount  to  Hildred's 
white  brow.  Suddenly  the  young  countess  spoke. 
Her  voice  sounded  pitilessly  sweet,  and  was  as  clear 
as  a  bell. 

"I  quite  agree  with  Lord  Caraven,"  she  said.  "If 
there  be  one  folly  greater  than  all  others,  it  is  that 
which  we  call  by  the  name  of  marriage." 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  a  minute;  even  Lord 


202 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Caraven  felt  that  he  had  gone  too  far — that  he  had 
spoken  in  an  undignified,  ungentlemanly  fashion; 
then  came  Sir  Raoul  to  the  rescue. 

"It  is  an  old  institution,"  he  said;  "we  will  not 
abuse  it.  Talking  of  abuse,  has  anyone  read  the 
Saturday's  stinging  review  of  Captain  Hartlake's  great 
military  work?" 

This  changed  the  conversation;  but  that  night, 
when  the  young  countess  was  about  to  retire,  she 
went  across  the  room  to  Sir  Raoul,  and  her  soft 
fingers  closed  over  his. 

"I  want  to  say  good-night,  and  to  thank  you,"  she 
said.  "I  want  to  say  also  that  you  have  been  very 
kind,  and  that  I  feel  sure  you  believe  in  what  is  good; 
so  pray  for  me — pray  for  me — for  I  am  frightened  at 
myself. " 

He  repeated   the  words  after  her,   wondering  at 
them: 

"Frightened  at  herself,  poor  child!" 

There  had  been  a  terrible  wrong  done  here.  Who  * 
had  done  it?  Was  it  the  money-lending  father  who 
had  sold  his  child  for  a  coronet?  Was  it  the  spend- 
thrift lord  who  had  been  willing  to  build  up  his  credit 
again  with  the  money-lender's  money?  On  which  of 
them  lay  the  guilt  of  that  loveless,  luckless  marriage? 
Then  a  new  thought  struck  Sir  Raoul.  How  had  Hil- 
dred  been  induced  to  give  her  consent?  She,  so 
refined,  so  true,  and  so  tender,  so  proud  and  so  ear- 
nest, how  had  she  beep  induced  to  consent?  She  must 
have  believed  in  Ulric's  love  at  some  time  or  other, 
he  told  himself;  otherwise  she  would  never  have  mar- 
ried. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLNOM 


Pray  for  her,  poor  child!  What  deadly  temptation 
lay  in  her  path!  He  could  guess.  He  could  read  of 
dislike  of  her  husband  in  her  averted,  drooping  eyes. 

"I  will  help  her,"  he  thought.  "In  days  gone  by  I 
have  used  my  influence  over  my  men  to  good  purpose. 
I  will  use  it  now  with  her." 

He  set  himself  the  task;  but  he  had  not  much  hope. 
The  days  of  his  sanguine  faith  had  passed.  Indiffer- 
ence and  dislike  between  husband  and  wife  were 
deadly  foes  to  contend  with. 

Among  the  friends  who  came  to  see  Sir  Raoul  was 
Lumley  Atherstone,  the  famous  artist — a  genius  who 
lived  for  art,  who  never  saw  the  color  of  a  flower,  the 
shape  of  a  leaf,  the  rosy  clouds  of  sunset,  the  pearly 
tints  of  dawn,  the  beauty  of -a  woman's  face,  or  the 
grace  of  a  human  figure,  without  a  thrill  of  joy,  and  a 
thanksgiving  for  the  gift  of  discernment — an  artist  to 
whom  everything  was  subservient  to  art,  who  esti- 
mated people  only  according  to  their  powers  of  ideal- 
ity, who  was  steeped  in  dreams  of  beauty — an  artist 
who  was  also  in  some  measure  a  man  of  fashion, 
whose  least  word  in  matters  of  taste  was  as  law.  No 
matter  how  the  world  praised  a  woman,  if  his  decision 
was  unfavorable  no  one  ventured  to  call  her  a  beauty; 
if  he  praised  her,  her  reputation  was  made.  * 

He  was  fastidious,  too,  in  his  art;  no  matter  how 
wealthy  the  person  who  wished  for  a  portrait — no 
matter  whether  she  were  princess  or  duchess — unless 
she  would  make  a  picture  that  would  do  credit  to  him 
he  would  sternly  refuse  to  paint  it.  He  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  commonplace  people  or  common- 


204 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


place  faces.  What  would  have  been  impertinence  in 
another  was  fastidiousness  in  him;  and  he  was  re- 
spected all  the  more  for  his  plain  speaking. 

When  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  merchant  went  to  him 
and  exhibited  a  face  that  indicated  good  temper  and 
luxurious  living  she  was  politely  assured  by  the  artist 
that  he  had  more  engagements  for  the  next  three  years 
than  he  could  possibly  fulfill.  If  a  countess  with 
shrewd,  crabbed  features  requested  a  sitting,  he  made 
the  same  excuse.  It  was  useless— Lumley  Atherstone 
worshiped  beauty.  Moreover,  he  loved  beauty  of  mind 
as  well  as  beauty  of  face.  A  noble  soul  had  great 
attractions  for  him;  that  was  why  he  liked  Sir  Raoul 
— the  picturesque  side  of  the  soldier's  character  had 
struck  him,  and  they  were  the  greatest  of  friends. 

He  was  sitting  one  morning  talking  to  Sir  Raoul 
when  Lady  Caraven  entered.  He  had  not  seen  her 
before,  and  he  at  once  admired  her.  Hildred  had 
heard  strange  stories  of  the  artist — of  his  fancies,  his 
caprices,  his  genius — and  she  was  delighted  to  meet 
him.  She  looked  very  lovely  and  spirituelle.  She 
wore  a  dress  of  pale  pink  muslin  trimmed  with  white 
lace — the  pale,  pretty  pink  set  off  the  exquisite  color- 
ing of  her  face  to  the  greatest  advantage.  The  slender, 
supple  figure,  rounded  as  Hebe's,  with  its  perfect 
grace  of  movement,  the  lovely  southern  face,  the 
proud,  noble  head  with  its  crown  of  dark  hair,  filled 
him  with  wonder  and  delight.  He  did  not  say  much 
to  ner  oecause  he  was  so  deeply  engaged  in  admiring 
her.  When  Hildred  had  spoken  to  Sir  Raoui,  aim 
talked  for  a  few  minutes  with  the  artist,  she  went 


FROM  „  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


205 


away.  With  dreamy  eyes  Lumley  Atherstone  looked 
after  her. 

"She  is  very  beautiful,  Sir  Raoul,"  he  said.  "I 
have  not  seen  such  a  face  or  figure  since  I  left  Italy." 

"Lady  Caraven  is  certainly  a  lovely  woman,"  was 
the  quiet  reply. 

The  artist  sat  quite  still,  wrapped  in  a  dream.  Sud- 
denly he  turned  to  the  soldier. 

"Do  you  think,"  he  said,  "if  I  asked  it,  as  a  great 
favor,  that  Lady  Caraven  would  let  me  paint  her 
portrait?  " 

"1  cannot  tell,"  answered  Sir  Raoul. 

"I  have  just  seen  her — seen  her  in  a  low  Venetian 
dress,  with  one  white  shoulder  bare  and  a  mantle  of 
purple-and-gold  round  the  other,  a  crown  of  red  roses 
on  her  hair,  and  rubies  round  her  throat." 

"Seen  her?  Where?"  asked  the  simple  soldier, 
greatly  perplexed. 

"Here,  Sir  Raoul,"  replied  the  artist,  touching  his 
temple — "here,  where  I  see  pictures  so  tantalizing 
and  so  beautiful  that  I  cannot  reproduce  them.  If 
she  will  but  consent  I  can  make  her  and  myself  im- 
mortal.   When  may  I  ask  her?" 

"I  do  not  understand  much  about  the  etiquette  of 
such  matters,  but  I  should  have  thought  it  would  be 
etiquette  to  speak  first  to  Lord  Caraven." 

"To  be  sure — you  are  quite  right;  he  might  not  like 
his  wife's  lovely  face  to  be  shown  to  the  world.  But 
in  that  case  I  should  blame  him;  a  man  cannot  but 
be  better  after  having  see*:  such  a  face  as  that." 

"I  do  not  think  he  will  refuse,  but  I  should  most 
certainly  speak  to  him  first." 


20b 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


The  fact  was  that  Sir  Raoul  felt  proud  of  the  art- 
ist's great  admiration,  and  he  wished  the  earl  to  hear 
how  the  most  eminent  painter  of  the  day  estimated 
the  beauty  that  he  ignored.  Such  praise  would  not 
have  the  same  value  coming  from  anyone  else;  if 
he  himself,  for  instance,  uttered  it,  the  earl  would 
laugh — coming  from  Lumley  Atherstone,  he  would  not 
dare  to  do  so. 

He  told  the  artist  that  he  believed  Lord  Caraven 
was  even  then  in  the  house,  and  that  if  he  pleased 
he  would  send  for  him. 

The  earl  came  in,  wondering  what  could  have 
induced  Lumley  Atherstone  to  ask  for  him.  The  artist 
soon  explained.  Lord  Caraven  looked  at  him  in 
wonder. 

"You  wish  to  paint  Lady  Caraven* s  portrait?"  he 
said,  blankly.  "But  I  thought  you  were  rather  par- 
ticular, you  know." 

"I  hope  I  am,  my  lord,  was  the  cold  reply.  "No 
artist  could  have  a  fairer  subject  for  his  pencil  than 
Lady  Caraven." 

"Well,"  said  the  earl,  in  a  tone  of  resignation,  "I 
shall  begin  to  think  that  I  am  blind.  All  I  can  say 
is  that  if  Lady  Caraven  be  willing,  I  shall  have  no 
objection.' 

"Thank  you,  responded  the  artist.  "I  shall  hope 
to  find  time  to  call  on  the  countess  to-morrow." 

"I  am  very  pleased  you  have  given  your  consent, 
Ulric,"  said  Sir  Raoul.  "I  was  wishing  only  yester- 
day that  Lady  Caraven  had  had  her  portrait  painted. 
Mr.  Atherstone's  picture  will  be  one  of  the  finest  in 
Ravensmere. " 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


207 


"If  it  reaches  there,"  thought  the  earl.  "My  opin- 
ion is  that  the  whole  world  has  gone  mad  together." 

He  was  rather  struck  after  all;  it  startled  him  to 
find  the  best  judge  of  beauty  in  England  speak  in 
such  rapturous  terms  about  the  countess.  It  was  a 
mistake,  of  course,  but  the  strange  thing  was  to  find 
an  artist  of  such  note  mistaken — it  did  not  often  hap 
pen.  He  left  Sir  Raoul  to  tell  the  news  to  his  w;fe^ 
he  would  not  have  complimented  her  so  highly. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


"l  SEE  A  SHADOW  ON  THIS  FACE" 

A  smiling  June  morning.  Lord  Caraven  had,  for  a 
wonder,  breakfasted  with  the  countess  and  Sir  Raoul. 
They  had  been  talking  about  their  plans  for  the  sum- 
mer, when  the  earl  looked  up  with#  good-tempered 
laugh. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "that  I  am  literally  tired 
of  hearing  the  constant  repetition  of  titles?  Raoul, 
you  claim  relationship  with  Lady  Caraven— why  not 
call  her  'Hildred?'  Hildred,  why  not  give  over  your 
formal  and  ceremonious  'Sir/  and  simply  say  'Raoul?  "' 

"I  shall  be  only  too  happy,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  "if  my 
dear  and  beautiful  kinswoman  will  permit  it" 

Before  the  young  countess  had  time  to  answer, 
Lord  Caraven  laughed  again. 

"What  old  world  notions  you  have,  Raoul!  Fancy 
talking  about  'a  dear  and  beautiful  kinswoman!' " 

"And  why  not,  Ulric?  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
people  in  your  set  sneer  at  everything  simple  and 
noble.  I  repeat  the  expression — my  dear  and  beauti- 
ful kinswoman,  have  I  your  permission  to  lay  aside 
your  title  and  call  you  'Hildred?' " 

"Yes,"  she  replied,    "if  you  wish  it,  Sir  Raoul.,? 

"It  must  be  on  equal  terms,  then." 

"If  you  wish  it,  Raoul,"  she  said. 

208 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


209 


Her  face  flushed,  her  dark  eyes  drooped,  and  her 
fingers  played  nervously  with  the  diamond  cross  on 
her  breast. 

"That  is  better,"  said  the  earl.  "I  always  felt 
compelled  to  be  formal  myself  when  I  heard  you. 
Hildred,  have  you  written  those  notes  of  invitation?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  giving  him  a  number  of  enve- 
lopes. "What  shall  you  do,  Lord  Caraven,  if  they 
all  say  <Yes?'" 

"It  will  be  so  much  the  better,"  he  replied.  "But 
that  is  not  probable;  some  always  refuse.  If  they  do 
accept,  Ravensmere  is  large  enough." 

"I  have  some  letters  of  my  own  to  send  to  post  with 
these,"  she  said;  and  Sir  Raoul  saw,  as  she  placed 
her  letters  in  her  husband's  hands,  how  carefully  she 
avoided  touching  him — so  carefully,  indeed,  that  two 
of  the  letters  fell  to  the  ground. 

"My  hand  is  not  made  of  hot  coals,  Hildred!"  he 
cried,  impatiently;  "you  need  not  be  afraid  of  touching 
it." 

She  made  no  reply,  but,  drawing  back  with  a 
haughty  gesture,  quitted  the  room. 

"That  girl  is  as  proud  as  Juno,"  said  the  earl,  for 
want  of  a  better  comparison. 

"She  has  every  right  to  be  proud,  Ulric,"  remarked 
Sir  Raoul.  "She  is  without  her  equal  for  goodness 
and  beauty." 

"She  seems  to  think  I  shall  kill  her  if  I  touch 
her,"  said  the  earl  bitterly.  "She  would  rather  lose 
the  costliest  jewel  we  have  than  touch  my  hand  to  lay 
it  in  it  safely." 


2IO 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Sir  Raoul  made  no  reply. 

"See,"  said  the  earl,  recovering  his  good  humor 
when  he  found  that  he  was  not  contradicted,  "all 
these  are  invitations  for  Ravensmere. M 

Sir  Raoul  looked  up  in  wonder. 

"You  are  not  like  me,  Ulric,"  he  returned,  quietly. 
"I  should  have  preferred  Ravensmere  and  peace  to 
the  gayety  you  will  have  with  all  these  people." 

"Would  you?"  laughed  the  earl.  "I  tried  Ravens- 
mere and  domestic  felicity  once,  but  shall  never  do  so 
again — never  again;  it  was  too  much  for  me." 

"Ulric,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  hastily,  "I  think  you  are 
much  to  blame." 

"We  will  not  discuss  the  matter,"  returned  the 
earl;  "that  is  one  of  the  things  in  which  I  allow  no 
interference  and  take  no  advice." 

"I  have  none  to  offer,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  coldly;  and 
*hey  said  no  more  upon  the  subject. 

Meanwhile  the  artist  had  made  great  progress  with 
his  picture.  It  was  a  work  of  love  with  him.  He 
came  to  Halby  House  at  times,  and  sometimes,  when 
Sir  Raoul  felt  well  enough  to  escort  the  countess,  they 
went  to  the  studio.  How  it  seemed  to  grow  under 
his  brush,  that  fair  face — fair,  pure,  original,  sc 
exquisite  in  color,  so  dainty  in  bloom!  When  the 
painting  was  finished  there  was  but  one  opinion — the 
portrait  was  simply  a  master-piece  of  art,  with  its 
delicate  beauty  and  rich  coloring. 

But  everyone  made  the  same  remark — the  face  was 
so  sad,  the  dark,  shadowed  eyes  did  not  look  as  though 
they  had  ever  smiled,  they  were  full  of  strange,  sad 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


211 


jreams;  the  beautiful  lips  were  sad,  and  looked  as 
chough  they  had  never  laughed  in  girlish  fashion. 

Sir  Raoul  pointed  this  out  to  the  artist. 

"I  see  it  myself,"  he  said,  "and  like  it.  It  was  the 
expression  that  I  noticed  on  the  face.  In  speaking  it 
was  bright  and  animated;  in  repose  it  was,  for  a  young 
face,  the  saddest  I  had  ever  seen.  I  cannot  understand 
it.  Look,  Sir  Raoul,  at  the  lovely  curve  of  the  lips; 
yet  you  would  think  that  it  was  the  mouth  of  a  griev- 
ing child.  Look  at  the  sad  eyes.  Do  you  know  what 
I  should  like,  Sir  Raoul?  I  should  like  a  companion 
picture  to  this,  a  picture  painted  in  a  few  years*  time, 
when  the  sun  of  happiness  has  arisen  for  this  dear 
lady — it  has  not  risen  yet.  I  should  like  those  two 
pictures  to  he  side  by  side.  I  would  call  one  'Spring,' 
the  other  'Summer.'  And,  Sir  Raoul,  do  you  know 
that  I  see  a  shadow  on  this  face  that  I  do  not  at  all 
like — a  shadow  that  I  have  seen  on  the  face  of  those 
who  die  young?  I  have  painted  the  portraits  of  some 
of  the  fairest  girls  and  most  "beautiful  women  in  Europe 
— I  have  never  seen  eyes  so  dark  as  these,  with  that 
peculiar  expression  in  them, without  feeling  sure  either 
of  death  in  youth  or  that  a  story  belonged  to  them." 

Sir  Raoul  looked  up  in  alarm. 

"Do  you  think  Lady  Caraven  delicate?"  he  asked. 

"No,  not  exactly,  though  her  face  has  brilliant, 
almost  hectic  coloring;  but  it  is  so  sad.  Youth 
should  be  bright,  smiling,  gay.  When  this  shadow 
lies  on  a  face,  it  is  either  because  the  sword  of  the 
angel  of  death  is  raised,  or  because  there  is  a  story 
in  the  face." 


21* 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


The  artist  mused  for  a  little  while,  and  then  he  said 
to  Sir  Raoul: 

"I  have  seen  beautiful  faces  that  I  felt  sure  could 
never  be  happy  ones.  I  have  one  in  my  mind  as  I 
speak,  as  lovely  as  a  woman's  face  can  be — but  there 
is  a  tragedy  in  it.  She  to  whom  it  belongs  is  a  young 
girl  now:  but  I  prophesy  that  her  life  will  end 
strangely.  She  has  striking  eyes  and  beautiful  lips, 
but  I  can  never  picture  them  smiling  happily.  So," 
he  continued,  rousing  himself  from  his  musings,  "there 
is  something  in  this  face  of  Lady  Caraven's  that  inter- 
ests me  greatly— -a  strange  story,  yet  untold." 

That  conversation  made  Sir  Raoul  unhappy.  It 
might  be  all  the  artist's  fancy  or  nonsense,  or  it  might 
be  a  serious  warning.  He  could  not  rest  until  he  had 
repeated  it  to  the  earl;  it  might  be  a  warning  to  him, 
and  make  him  more  thoughtful  about  her.  He  did 
repeat  it,  and  Lord  Caraven  looked  up  with  an  incred- 
ulous smile. 

"The  shadow  of  early  death  in  her  eyes?"  he  said. 
"Raoul,  you  are  growing  sentimental — I  do  not  under- 
stand it." 

In  his  simple,  soldierly  fashion,  Sir  Raoul  repeated 
what  the  artist  had  said.    The  earl  laughed. 

'  It  is  wonderful,"  he  said,  "how  foolish  men  of 
genius  are.  To  me  Lady  Caraven  looks  as,  strong  and 
as  well  as  anyone  I  know." 

'But  not  happy,  Ulric — not  happy,"  repeated  his 
kinsman;  "and  a  young  face  should  never  be  sad." 

"I  do  not  know  that  she  has  any  particular  cause  for 
sadness.  *  was  the  careless  reply — "she  has  all  that  her 
heart  desires." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Except  your  love,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  speaking  more 
boldly  than  was  his  wont. 

"And  that/'  laughed  the  earl,  "she  does  not  want. 
You  must  allow  something  for  hereditary  tendencies, 
Raoul.  To  Arley  Ransome,  I  should  imagine,  the  word 
'love'  is  unknown,  except  perhaps  in  a  brief  for  breach 
of  promise." 

"You  pain  me,  Ulric,*  said  Sir  Raoul,  gravely — "no 
man  should  speak  so  of  his  wife." 

"I  am  saying  nothing  against  her,"  was  the  impa- 
tient reply;  "I  merely  remark  that  I  should  not  expect 
from  the  daughter  of  a  man  like  Arley  Ransome  what 
I  should  expect,  we  will  say,  from  the  child  of  an 
artist  or  a  poet." 

Sir  Raoul  would  not  continue  the  conversation;  but 
long  afterward,  when  the  portrait,  which  was  a  gem 
of  art,  came  home,  he  asked  Lord  Caraven  to  look 
at  it. 

"See  for  yourself,"  he  said,  "the  perfect  contour  of 
head  and  face,  the  beauty  of  eyes  and  lips;  then  see 
how  utterly  sad  they  are.  One  longs  to  see  the  lips 
smile  and  the  eyes  grow  bright.  I  am  not  a  man  of 
many  words,  Ulric,  but  I  should  not  like  a  wife  of 
mine  to  have  a  face  like  that." 

The  earl  laughed  lightly,  but  he  did  not  quite  like 
Sir  RaouPs  remarks.  The  portrait  was  hung  up  in 
the  drawing-room.  It  did  not  remain  there  long;  the 
earl  did  not  like  to  hear  the  comments  upon  it.  One 
morning  he  said  to  Sir  Raoul: 

"This  portrait  of  Hildred's  is  considered  a  very  fine 
picture;  I  think  I  should  like  it  to  hang  in  the  picture 
galley  at  the  castle." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Side  by  side  with  all  the  dead  and  gone  Ladies 
Caraven?"  replied  Sir  Raoul.  "I  do  not  blame  you. 
To  me  there  appears  to  be  a  quiet  reproach  in  the 
face  which  it  is  not  pleasant  to  see." 

"There  is  no  cause  for  reproach,"  said  the  earl. 
"You  seem  to  think  that  I  deceived  Hildred,  Raoul. 
From  first  to  last  there  has  been  no  mention  of  love 
between  us.  It  was  a  case  of  money  versus  title. 
We  both  have  what  we  wanted;  therefore  no  more 
need  be  said." 

Sir  Raoul,  being  a  wise  man,  said  no  more  just 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

"the  loveliest  lady  in  the  land 

Never  did  the  fine  old  mansion  of  Ravensmere 
look  fairer  than  in  the  leafy  month  of  June.  It  made 
a  picture  that  gladdened  one's  heart — the  quaint  gray 
towers  covered  with  clinging  ivy,  the  oriel  windows 
with  ivy  growing  so  thickly  round  them,  the  square 
turrets,  the  quaint,  picturesque  building  that  seemed 
to  defy  and  yet  to  accord  with  all  the  rules  of  art.  It 
rose,  noble  and  lofty,  a  perfect  picture  of  harmonious 
coloring.  The  castle  was  situated  in  the  loveliest  part 
of  Devonshire.  The  foliage  that  surrounded  it  was 
magnificent.  The  Ravenemere  woods  stretched  out 
far  and  wide;  antlered  deer  reclined  in  the  shade  of 
them.  They  were  woods  always  full  of  music,  wher* 
bluebells  grew  with  the  red  fox-glove  and  wild  hya« 
cinths,  where  starry  primroses  grew  at  the  roots  of  th« 
trees,  and  cowslips  hid  their  sweet  yellow  heads — a 
home  for  the  ferns — one  of  the  loveliest  of  all  the  lovel] 
nooks  in  England.  On  the  other  side  of  the  castle  lay 
rich,  fertile  lands,  pleasure-gardens,  a  fine  old  orchard, 
a  long  line  of  glass  houses,  undulating  corn  fields 
where  the  wheat  was  fast  ripening,  clover  fields  where 
the  cattle  browsed  in  the  sunshine,  green  lanes  and 
meadows  that  led  to  the  sea.  During  this  June 
Ravensmere  was  looking  its  fairest;  the  trees  were  all 

315 


2l6 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


in  full  leaf,  the  hedges  were  pink  and  white — for  the 
hawthorn  was  at  its  best — the  rich  scent  of  the  clover 
came  over  the  land.  The  interior  of  the  castle  was 
just  as  attractive.  Covers  and  wrappers  had  been 
removed,  and  everything  restored  to  its  proper  order, 
for  the  earl  and  countess  were  expected  home  with  a 
large  party  of  guests. 

This  home-coming  had  not  been  a  sourec  of  great 
pleasure  to  Lady  Caraven.  All  places  were  alike  to 
her;  the  shadow  of  her  unhappiness  darkened  them 
all.  In  London,  notwithstanding  the  crowds,  the  balls, 
the  dances,  the  operas,  the  fetes,  the  admiration  she  had 
met  with,  she  had  been  miserable.  A  noble  and  lov- 
ing heart  like  hers  could  not  be  satisfied  with  such 
frivolities;  she  wanted  the  realities  of  life — a  husband 
to  love  her — a  husband  to  love.  She*  had  taken  her 
part  in  the  gay  pageant,  she  had  gone  with  the  cfowd, 
she  had  shone  fairest  at  balls  and  parties,  but  all  the 
time,  all  the  dreary  time,  she  moaned  to  herself  that 
her  heart  was  empty,  her  life  was  vain.  She  was 
frightened,  too,  at  finding  that  her  dislike  to  her  hus- 
band was  increasing  day  by  day;  while  she  had  been 
indifferent  it  had  been  easier  to  bear  it — it  was  even 
easier  with  the  mocking  shadow  of  a  never-to-be-gained 
love.  Now  that  she  disliked  him,  it  was  terribly 
hard.  And  she  did  dislike  him  She  shrank  from  the 
least  touch  of  his  hand.  If,  in  passing  near  her,  he 
touched  even  the  hem  of  her  dress,  she  drew  it  aside. 
She  shrank  from  the  sound  of  his  voice.  She  never 
voluntarily  entered  a  room  if  he  was  in  it;  she  avoided 
meeting  him  when  she  could.  She  disliked  him,  and 
she  trembled  with  fear  at  the  thought. 


fr£>m  out  the  gloom 


217 


Going  back  to  Ravensmere  gave  her  no  particular 
pleasure.  She  knew  that  the  earl  would  take  a  whole 
troop  of  friends  with  him,  besides  which,  she  was 
rapidly  losing  all  hope.  In  Paris  she  had  hoped  that 
their  going  to  Ravensmere  might  bring  them  nearer 
together;  at  Ravensmere  she  had  hoped  that  in  Lon- 
don they  might,  perhaps,  do  better.  Now  no  such 
delusion  came  to  her.  She  knew  that  there  was  no 
hope — that  she  might  as  well  be  at  any  other  place  as 
home  at  Ravensmere. 

They  had  a  pleasant  journey  from  London — pleasant 
as  far  as  sunshine  was  concerned — but  Sir  Raoul,  who 
traveled  with  the  earl  and  his  wife,  was  pained  at 
seeing  the  coolness  between  them.  There  was  dislike 
on  the  part  of  the  countess — avoidance  on  the  part  of 
the  earl.  He  himself  was  the  only  one  who  talked 
or  seemed  at  his  ease.  During  the  journey  he  tried 
once  or  twice  to  bring  them  to  converse,  but  on  Lady 
Hildred's  face  there  was  the  cold,  proud  expression 
that  he  was  beginning  to  know  so  well,  and  on  the 
earl's  face  he  read  the  very  intensity  of  impatience. 
It  was  of  no  use — so  he  allowed  matters  to  take  their 
course;  the  consequence  was  that  husband  and  wife 
barely  exchanged  one  word  on  the  journey. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening  when  they  reached  the  cas- 
tle. The  sun  was  shining  full  on  the  towers  and  tur- 
rets. Sir  Raoul  cried  out  in  delight  when  he  saw  the 
place. 

"This  is  just  how  I  have  seen  it  a  hundred  times  in 
dreams."  he  said.    "There's  no  other  spot  in  En- 
gland one  half  so  tair.' 


2l8 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLflOM 


"Upon  my  word,"  said  the  earl,  turning  to  him  sud- 
denly, "I  wish  that  you  had  it  instead  of  me;  you 
would  make  a  thousand  times  better  master." 

And  Sir  Raoul  could  not  help  seeing  that,  the  young 
countess  turned  to  him  with  the  same  wish  most 
plainly  written  on  her  face. 

"You  will  be  a  better  master  yet  than  you  have  ever 
been,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  touched  at  the  unexpected 
humility  of  the  words. 

"No;  I  shall  never  improve,"  replied  the  earl,  with 
a  short  laugh.  "We  shall  soon  sefe  the  quiet  of  Ravens- 
mere  disturbed.  Do  you  know  that  only  three  out  of 
twenty  declined  my  invitation?  We  shall  have  the 
prettiest  woman  in  England  here." 

"Who  may  that  be?"  asked  Sir  Raoul. 

"Do  you  not  know  Lady  Belle  Winstone — the 
lovely,  golden-haired  young  widow?" 

Sir  Raoul  looked  at  the  noble,  beautiful  face  oppo- 
site to  him;  it  could  not  have  been  prouder  or  colder. 

"Lady  Belle  Winstone?"  he  repeated.  "I  have  never 
even  heard  the  name  before.  I  incline  to  the  belief" 
he  continued,  with  a  bow  to  the  countess,  "that  we 
have  the  loveliest  lady  in  the  land  at  Ravensmere 
now." 

"You  are  a  courtier,  Raoul,"  laughed  the  earl. 
"Everyone  to  his  taste.  Do  not  commit  yourself  to 
any  decided  opinion  until  you  have  seen  Lady  Belle." 

"My  opinion  has  long  been  formed,"  replied  Sir 
Raoul,  pleasantly. 

Whenever  he  advanced  the  cause  of  the  neglected, 
unloved  wife,  he  did  it  with  so  much  good  humor  that 
the  earl  could  not  possibly  take  offense. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


219 


"Lady  Belle,"  continued  his  lordship,  "has  had 
more  admirers  than  any  woman  in  England." 

"Then  I  should  say,"  replied  Sir  Raoul,  "that  she 
was  a  great  coquette." 

Lord  Caraven  laughed. 

"She  is  indeed;  but  then  her  coquetry  is  so  delight- 
ful that  a  man  does  not  mind  being  made  a  victim 
just  for  once." 

"Tastes  differ,"  said  Raoul,  calmly.  "A  coquette 
would  never  please  me." 

Then  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  great  entrance, 
and  they  were  at  home. 

Remembering  that  after  all  he  owed  this  house  to 
the  wife  he  did  not  love,  Lord  Caraven  deigned  to 
say  a  few  kind  words  to  her;  he  said  that  he  had 
never  seen  so  many  roses  at  Ravensmere,  and  never 
such  beautiful  blooms.  She  did  not  even  turn  to  look 
at  the  flowers  he  indicated,  but  passed  on,  the  words 
he  had  spoken  about  Lady  Belle  rankling  in  her  heart. 

What  mattered  the  bloom  of  the  roses  to  her?  He 
did  not  love  her — she  did  not  even  like  him;  but  she 
could  not  forget  that  he  was  her  husband,  and  it  was 
intolerable  that  any  other  woman  should  have  all  his 
admiration.  With  a  gesture  of  haughty  pride  she 
swept  into  the  house.  Sir  Raoul  understood  the  ac- 
tion well. 

It  was  not  a  very  bright  home-coming.  Lady  Cara- 
ven went  to  her  room,  and  sent  an  excuse  for  not 
appearing  at  the  dinner-table — she  was  tired  from  the 
journey;  but  Sir  Raoul,  who  had  grown  to  understand 
every  thought,  every  look  of  hers,  knew  quite  well  that 


220 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


she  had  found  the  earl's  ardenf  praise  of  Lady  Belle 

unendurable. 

It  was  true.  Hildred  was  asking  herself  how  she 
could  bear  it.  She  did  not  love  her  husband,  yet  in 
some  vague  way  she  was  jealous  of  him.  She  did  not 
like  him,  but  she  was  not  prepared  to  see  him  offering 
even  the  light  flattery  of  the  hour  to  another  woman. 

Sir  Raoul  was  more  troubled  that  night  than  he  had 
ever  been  before.  He  sat  down  to  review  the  situa- 
tion. If  he  was  to  do  anything  for  this  unhappy  hus- 
band and  wife,  it  must  be  done  at  once!  It  was  a 
strange  position,  and  to  him  there  came  no  gleam  of 
light — no  inkling  as  to  how  he  should  avoid  his  diffi- 
culties— no  knowledge  of  what  would  be  best  to  be 
done. 

He  saw  one  thing  very  plainly.  The  present  state 
of  things  could  not  last  long.  It  was  impossible  to 
think  calmly  of  such  a  life  as  Hildred's — always  un- 
happy, always  lonely.  He  remembered  how  with  the 
saddest  voice  he  had  ever  heard  she  said  to  him  one 
day: 

"I  never  feel  so  entirely  alone  as  when  I  am  in  a 
crowded  Mayfair  ball-room." 

He  understood  why — this  brave,  noble  soldier,  to 
whom  had  been  given  the  delicate  instinct  that  reads 
a  woman's  heart.  She  missed  the  love  that  should 
have  been  hers.  As  time  went  on  she  would  miss  it 
still  more  and  then — what  then? 

Her  noble,  womanly  nature  revolted  against  her 
fate.  She  disliked  the  husband  who  lost  no  opportu- 
nity of  showing  how  little  he  loved  her.    This  dislike, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


221 


with  one  of  her  earnest  nature,  must  deepen  into 
hatred.  What  then?  Sir  Raoul  saw  that  things  must 
grow  worse. 

"If  this  coquette,  this  lovely  Lady  Belle,  comes  to 
Ravensmere,  and  the  earl  flirts  with  her,  evil  will 
ensue,"  he  thought. 

What  could  he  do? 

If  one  had  loved  the  other,  matters  would  have 
been  easier.  But  it  was  not  so;  there  was  nothing  to 
which  he  could  appeal — no  love,  no  tenderness,  on 
which  he  could  build  even  the  slightest  foundation. 
It  was  the  husband's  fault  that  his  beautiful  young 
wife  disliked  him;  he  had  been  unkind,  neglectful — 
he  had  hardened  her  heart  against  himself.  The  earl 
visited  on  this  girl  the  wrong  that  he  considered  Arley 
Ransome  had  done  him.  The  dislike  and  contempt 
he  had  for  the  father  were  vented  on  the  daughter; 
although  she  was  quite  innocent  they  fell  on  her.  To 
him  she  was  never  his  wife — Countess  of  Caraven,  a 
lovely,  dark-haired  girl.  She  was  simply  the  money- 
lender's daughter. 

Pride,  coldness,  indifference,  neglect,  dislike,  con- 
tempt, all  lay  between  them.  How  were  these  to  be 
bridged  over  or  vanquished?  Added  to  all  the  rest 
was  the  dissipation,  the  want  of  purpose,  the  indo- 
lence, the  self-indulgence,  that  characterized  Lord 
Caraven. 

"I  would  rather  be  at  the  head  of  my  regiment,  fac- 
ing some  wild,  savage  horde,  than  here  with  this  strug- 
gle before  me,"  thought  Sir  Raoul,  almost  despairingly. 

For  her  sake  he  must  do  it.    He  loved  her  very 


222 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


dearly — not  with  a  love  in  which  was  one. iota  of 
wrong;  if  she  had  been  a  fair  young  sister  of  his  own 
he  could  not  have  loved  her  better.  He  rendered  her 
true  and  knightly  service — he  admired  her  beauty,  her 
grace.  He  saw  what  her  husband  could  not  see — that 
a  whole  world  of  passion  and  tenderness  lay  hidden 
beneath  the  cold,  calm  pride.  He  cared  more  for  her 
than  for  anyone  else  living,  but  it  was  with  a  true  and 
knightly  love — a  love  that  would  fain  have  placed  her 
where  she  ought  to  have  been — in  her  husband's  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

"losing  my  life  for  a  few  birds  of  my  lord's" 

Perhaps  the  distress  that  Sir  Raoul  Laureston  could 
not  help  feeling  for  the  sorrows  of  his  fair  young  kins- 
woman was  too  much  for  the  weak,  shattered  frame, 
or  it  may  have  been  that  the  air  of  Ravensmere  did 
aot  suit  him.  He  was  not  well  for  many  weeks  after 
his  arrival.  He  did  not  actually  keep  his  room;  the 
earl, who  was  tender  enough  and  anxious  enough  where 
his  cousin  was  concerned,  had  ordered  two  of  the  larg- 
est, lightest,  and  most  cheerful  apartments  in  the  cas- 
tle to  be  prepared  for  him,  and  Lady  Caraven  was 
only  too  anxious  to  arrange  everything  most  luxuri- 
ously for  him.  No  sitting-room  in  the  house  was  so 
comfortable  as  his;  the  fairest  and  most  fragrant  of 
flowers  were  there,  the  richest  and  ripest  of  fruits. 
Thither  all  the  magazines  and  periodicals  of  the  day 
were  taken,  and  there  the  beautiful  young  mistress  of 
the  castle  speht  many  hours  that  would  otherwise  have 
been  most  wearisome.  She  would  take  her  drawing 
materials  thither;  and  many  charming  pictures  were 
sketched  and  painted  in  the  Red  Room,  as  Sir  Raoul's 
sitting-room  was  called.  She  read  all  the  new  books 
to  him;  no  poem  or  story  seemed  quite  satisfactory  to 
her  until  she  had  read  it  to  him.  She  loved  him  very 
dearly;  a  loyal  friendship  existed  between  Lady  Cara- 

223 


224 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


ven  and  the  noble  soldier  whose  very  bravery  had 
spoiled  his  life.  She  never  wearied  of  asking  him  to 
tell  the  story  of  hfs  battles  over  again;  she  never 
tired  of  listening  to  this  great  and  noble  man  who  had 
never  been  heard  to^boast  of  a  brave  deed — who  esti- 
mated himself  in  so  lowly  a  fashion. 

But  it  was  a  good,  pure  love,  born  of  the  tender- 
ness and  purity  of  her  own  heart  — a  love  that  made 
her  a  better  woman.  She  had  not  reached  that  "intel- 
lectual point"  when  a  woman,  because  she  does  not 
like  her  own  husband,  sees  no  harm  in  liking  another 
man;  she  was  as  true  and  loyal  a  wife  as  though  her 
husband  loved  her  most  dearly.  True,  he  did  not  like 
her;  she  knew  that.  But  the  idea  that  that  could  be 
any  plea  for  a  dishonorable  love  never  entered  her 
mind.  She  was  his  wife;  that  fact  was  unalterable. 
There  might  be  coldness,  dislike,  neglect,  and  con- 
tempt, but  she  remained  his  wife,  and,  as  such,  even 
the  thought  of  another  love  never  came  to  her — sh^ 
would  have  shrunk  from  it  in  horror.  It  was  this 
noble  earnestness,  this  loyal  integrity,  that  made  her 
life  seem  so  hard  to  her.  The  love  between  the  brave 
soldier  and  his  young  kinswoman  was  as  pure  and 
noble  as  they  weie  themselves. 

More  than  once,  when  she  came  to  read  to  him, 
always  bringing  with  her  sweetest  flowers  and  choicest 
fruits,  he  had  noticed  that  her  face  was  pale  and  her 
eyes  were  heavy  with  weeping.  Once,  as  she  bent  over 
him  to  show  him  the  lovely  bloom  on  a  per.cn,  he 
said  to  her: 

"Hildred,  do  you  spend  the  whole  night  jn  tears?" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


225 


'Sometimes,"  she  replied;  "but,  Raoul,  do  not  talk 
to  me  about  it — I  would -  rather  speak  on  any  other 
subject  than  myself." 

He  respected  her  wish. 

The  quiet  of  Ravensmere  was,  indeed,  broken  up — 
the  house  was  filled  with  guests.  Many  of  them  were 
people  whom  Hildred  did  not  like;  but  she  was  com- 
pelled to  be  agreeable  to  all.  There  were  men  of  the 
same  stamp  as  her  husband,  whose  whole  lives  seemed 
to  be  passed  at  the  billiard-table,  who  had  no  thought 
except  for  gambling  and  betting,  whose  lives  were  a 
round  of  self-indulgence,  who  had  not  a  noble  thought 
or  idea. 

Hildred  knew  that  there  were  strange  revels  within 
the  honored  old  walls.  The  party  generally  broke  up 
about  midnight — they  were  sometimes  rather  later 
when  they  had  charades  or  dancing;  but  midnight  was 
the  usual  hour.  Then  the  ladies  and  the  wiser  and 
steadier  of  the  gentlemen  retired  to  their  rooms.  The 
others,  with  the  earl  at  the  head  of  them,  adjourned 
to  the  billiard-room.  Long  after  morning  dawned 
Hildred  heard  the  click  of  the  billiard  balls,  and  she 
knew  that  all  was  not  right.  Still,  she  was  powerless 
to  interfere;  if  she  had  said  but  one  word,  her  hus- 
band would  have  been  passionately  angry.  She 
remembered  the  night  in  London  when  he  had  half 
suspected  her  of  watching  him.  She  would  not  inter- 
fere, and  it  was  of  no  use  telling  Sir  Raoul — he  had 
enough  to  bear  of  physical  pain.  There  was  nothing 
for  it  but  grim  endurance. 

She  did  not  like  some  of  the  people  whom  the  earl 


226 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


had  invited.  If  not  rude,  they  were  neglectful  of  her 
— seemed  to  know  her  position  by  instinct — seemed 
to  guess  that  she  was  an  unloved  wife,  that  she  had 
been  married  for  her  money,  and  had  a  title  instead 
of  love.  She  must  endure  it,  but  there  were  thing? 
she  could  not  tolerate.    This  was  one. 

One  morning  she  was  quite  alone  in  the  castle.  The 
whole  party  had  gone  out  riding  and  driving,  some  of 
them  greatly  disappointed  at  not  having  their  beauti- 
ful young  hostess  with  them;  but  she  thought  Sir 
Raoul  looked  worse  that  morning,  so  would  not  leave 
him.  She  was  busily  engaged  in  reading  to  him  when 
a  servant  came  to  say  that  a  poor  woman  was  waiting 
to  see  her. 

"I  tried  to  send  her  away,  your  ladyship,"  said  the 
man,  "but  she  begged  so  hard  that  I  had  not  the 
heart. M 

"Tried  to  send  her  away!  Why  did  you  do  that?" 
asked  Lady  Caraven. 

"I  think  she  is  one  of  the  tenants,  your  ladyship, 
and  his  lordship  gave  orders  that  they  should  nevef 
be  attended  to  here — they  were  to  be  sent  to  Mr. 
Blantyre.    If  I  have  done  wrong  I  am    sorry  for  it." 

"You  have  done  right,"  she  said;  "no  blessing  ever 
comes  to  a  house  where  the  poor  and  the  sorrowful 
are  sent  from  the  door." 

Not  even  to  a  servant  would  she  utter  one  word  in 
disparagement  of  her  husband,  although  she  thought 
;he  order  a  cruel  one. 

The  woman  was  waiting  to  see  her  in  one  of  the 
ante-rooms.    Lady  Caraven's    generous    heart  was 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


227 


touched  as  she  looked  at  her,  she  was  so  thin,  so  worn, 
with  a  face  so  white  and  so  sad,  and  great,  despairing 
eyes;  her  clothes  were  a  thin,  shabby  dress  and  a  still 
thinner  and  shabbier  shawl. 

As  the  young  countess  stood  before  her  in  all  the 
pride  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  amid  all  the  luxury  of 
her  surroundings,  she  felt,  in  some  vague  way, 
ashamed  of  the  contrast. 

"Did  you  want  me?"  she  said,  in  a  low,  gentle  voice. 
"I  am  Lady  Caraven.    Do  you  wish  to  see  me?" 

The  thin,  worn  hands  were  clasped  tightly.  The 
woman  hardly  seemed  to  have  the   power  of  speech. 

"Do  not  be  afraid,"  said  the  young  countess;  "tell 
me  what  you  want." 

"Oh!  my  lady,  my  lady!"  was  the  cry  that  seemed 
to  come  from  a  breaking  heart,  "will  you  take  pity  on 
me?" 

"I  will,  indeed,  if  I  can.  If  I  can  help  you,  I  prom- 
ise that  I  will.  What  is  the  matter?  You  must  not 
fear  to  tell  me.  I  can  understand  tke  sorrows  of 
others,  and  feel  for  them." 

The  woman  looked  up  into  the  kindly,  beautiful 
face. 

"I  hardly  know  how  to  tell  you,  my  lady.  It  is  not 
the  earl's  fault.  None  of  us  blame  him;  he  does  not 
know  it.    It  is  all  Mr.  Blantyre's  doing." 

"But  what  is  it?"  she  asked  gently.  "You  forget 
that  I  do  not  know." 

"My  lady,  it  is  this.  My  husband — a  fine,  strong, 
handsome  young  man — was  killed  here  in  the  woods 
two  years  ago;  he  was  a  keeper,  and  there  was  a  fight 


£28 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


with  the  poachers — my  husband,  John  Woodruff,  was 
killed.  He  was  a  fine,  handsome  young  man,  my 
lady,  and  we  had  three  little  children.  I  was  fetched 
to  him  after  he  was  hurt.  He  had  been  struck  with 
the  butt-end  of  a  gun,  and  the  doctor  said  that  the 
moment  he  was  moved  he  would  die.  So  his  com- 
panions fetched  me  to  him,  my  lady — me  with  my  three 
little  children;  and  we  saw  him,  in  the  early  dawn 
of  the  morning,  lying  in  the  clover  dying — dying,  my 
lady — the  dear  lad  who  had  never  given  me  an  angry 
word.  We  knelt  down  beside  him,  and  he  tried  to 
raise  his  head  to  look  at  the  children,  for  the  last 
time;  but  he  could  not  see  them — his  eyes  were  dim, 
he  groped  with  his  hand,  as  though  he  was  in  dark- 
ness. He  neither  saw  them  nor  me,  but  he  knew  that 
I  was  there. 

"'Ellen,'  he  said — and  even  in  dying  the  words 
sounded  quite  clear — 'Ellen,  you  have  been  a  good 
wife  to  me.  I  am  losing  my  life  for  a  few  birds  of  my 
lord's;  but  he  will  see  to  you.  The  earl  will  see  to 
you — he  will  never  let  you  want.'  And  all  the  men 
standing  round  him  said: 

"'That  is  right  enough;  the  earl  will  never  let  you 
want.' 

"But,  my  lady,  it  was  the  keepers  who  buried  my 
husband — I  think  the  earl  forgot  him.  We  lived  then 
in  a  little  cottage — one  belonging  to  the  earl — and, 
my  lady,  since  my  husband's  death  I  have  lived  there 
— I  do  not  know  why — rent  free.  Living  there  has 
been  my  livelihood.  I  have  had  no  rent  to  pay,  and 
every  week  I  have  earned  a  few  shillings  by  taking  in 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


229 


washing  for  the  people  at  Court  Raven.  Some  weeks 
I  have  made  five  shillings — sometimes  more.  People 
like  to  send  their  things  to  me — I  dry  them  on  a 
hedge,  my  lady,  near  the  trees,  and  they  say  the 
sweet  smell  of  the  firs  hangs  about  them." 

"Go  on,"  said  the  young  countess,  gently — "I  am 
deeply  interested." 

"So,  my  lady,  the  little  cottage  has,  after  a  fashion, 
kept  me  and  my  children.  But  now  a  paper  has  come 
to  say  that  henceforth  we  must  pay  rent — four-and-six- 
pence  each  week — for  the  place ;  and,  my  lady,  if  I  pay 
it  I  shall  not  be  able  to  buy  bread  for  my  children  to 
eat." 

"But  you  shall  not  pay  it,"  said  the  young  count- 
ess. 

"Oh,  my  lady,  heaven  bless  you!  If  you  would 
but  speak  to  the  earl  for  me!  He  is  young,  and  he 
does  not  think — he  does  not  know.  If  you  would  but 
speak  to  him  for  me!" 

Speak  to  her  husband!  Hildred  had  not  thought  of 
that — had  not  meant  that.    The  woman  went  on: 

"I  have  been  to  Mr.  Blantyre,  my  lady,  but  he 
refused  to  hear  me.  He  said  I  must  pay  the  rent  or 
go.  Where  can  I  go?  My  husband  took  me  home 
to  the  cottage,  and  my  little  children  were  born  there. 
Where  can  I  go?  What  can  I  do?  It  seems  hard, 
my  lady.  My  poor  husband  died  to  keep  a  few  birds 
alive— birds  that  my  lord  and  his  friends  shot  after- 
ward— and  now  I  must  leave  the  home  I  love  for  my 
dear  lad's  sake.  It  is  a  hard  world  for  the  poor,  my 
lady— hard  and  cold  and  cruel." 


230 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"There  is  another,  better  and  brighter,"  sj£\u  tu* 
young  countess. 

"Yes,  my  lady — I  know  it;  but  it  seems  h*  d  to 
wait  for  that,  hard  to  wait  while  the  children  ar  ;  cry- 
ing for  bread,  and  there  is  no  coal  for  the  fire." 

"I  promise  to  help  you,"  said  Lady  Carav^  .  "I 
will  speak  to  the  earl,  my  husband;  he  will  1  t  you 
stay  without  paying  rent." 

"I  know  hs  will — if  he  understands;  but,  m:  lady, 
Mr.  Blantyre  does  as  he  likes  with  the  poor,  ,nd  the 
earl  knows  nothing  about  it.  What  could  io.x  shil- 
lings and  sixpence  a  week  matter  to  the  eai  t?  And 
my  husband  died  to  save  his  birds." 

"I  will  do  all  I  can,"  said  the  countess;  ^  me  and 
see  me  again  in  three  days'  time  from  now.'* 

And  Lady  Caraven  placed  in  the  thin  hand  that 
which  made  the  widow's  heart  beat  fast  for  joy. 


CHAPTER  XXVI  * 


"it  would  be  a  fatal  precedent" 

On  the  day  after  the  poor  widow's  visit  Lady  Cara 
ven  had  no  opportunity  of  speaking  to  her  husband, 
He  cared  little  enough,  as  a  rule,  for  county  business, 
but  he  was  compelled  to  attend  a  political  meeting  at 
Court  Raven,  the  town  which  belonged  almost  entirely 
to  the  Ravensmere  estates.  He  did  not  return  until 
late  in  the  evening,  and  she  did  not  see  him.  On  the 
day  following  she  determined  to  make  an  opportunity. 
As  it  happened,  the  earl   was  at  the  breakfast-table. 

"It  will  be  easy  enough,"  she  thought  now.  "When 
breakfast  is  over  I  will  ask  him  to  spare  a  few  min- 
utes for  me." 

But,  when  breakfast  was  over,  the  earl  went  off 
with  some  gentlemen  to  the  stables.  There  was  a  fear 
that  his  favorite  horse  was  ill,  so  it  was  no  time  then 
to  plead  the  widow's  cause.  She  tried  again  at  lunch- 
eon— it  was  equally  in  vain;  and  the  young  countess 
smiled  to  think  that  there  should  be  so  much  difficulty 
in  the  way  of  speaking  a  word  to  her  own  husband. 
As  a  last  resource  she  went  to  the  Red  Room. 

"Raoul,"  she  said,  "Lord  Caraven  always  comes 
when  you  want  him.  Will  you  make  some  excuse  for 
sending  for  him?  I  want  to  speak  to  him  very  partic* 
ularly,  and  I  cannot  find  an  opportunity." 

231 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Sir  Raoul  was  only  too  pleased;  he  thought  that 
the  fact  of  her  wishing  to  speak  to  him  at  all  was  a 
good  sign.  He  sent  for  him,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
the  earl  arrived,  pleased,  as  he  always  was,  to  be  of 
use  to  Sir  Raoul. 

The  soldier  talked  to  him  for  a  few  minutes  about 
an  imaginary  want,  and  Lord  Caraven  was  deeply 
interested.  He  had  bowed  to  his  wife  on  entering  the 
room,  but  had  not  spoken  to  her;  now  she  came  up 
to  him. 

'Lord  Caraven,"  she  said,  "you  can  spare  me  ten 
minutes?  I  will  not  detain  you  longer." 

An  expression  of  impatience  came  over  his  face: 
she  saw  it,  and  her  own  blanched  with  anger. 

"Have  no  fear,"  she  said,  sarcastically;  "it  is  not 
of  myself  that  I  wish  to  speak." 

"I  was  just  going  out,"  he  told  her,  hastily. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  sweep  disdainfully  from  the 
room,  and  never  to  speak  to  him  again.  For  one 
half  minute  she  felt  that  she  hated  him;  and  then 
she  remembered  that  she  had  promised  to  plead  the 
widow's  cause — the  widow  who  loved  her  home  for 
"her  dear  lad's"  sake. 

"Lord  Caraven,"  she  said,  gently,  "I  promise  that  1 
will  not  detain  you  long.  Will  you  come  with  me  to 
my  room?" 

The  earl  threw  up  his  eyes  with  an  expression  of 
resignation.  Only  Sir  Raoul  saw  it,  and  he  felt 
annoyed. 

"I  will  follow  you,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  and  she 
led  the  way  to  her  boudoir.    It  was  a  pretty  octagon- 


FROM  OCT  THE  GLOOM 


233 


shaped  room;  the  ceiling  was  painted,  the  walls  were 
beautifully  decorated,  the  hangings  were  of  rich  rose 
silk  and  lace,  a  profusion  of  flowers  perfumed  the 
room. 

"What  a  lady's  bower,"  said  the  earl;  "flowers  and 
lace  and  perfume!    What  a  dainty  little  nest!" 

Then  it  struck  him  that  this  was  the  first  time  since 
their  marriage  that  he  had  entered  any  room  belong- 
ing to  his  wife. 

"I  have  not  seen  this  little  room  before,"  he  said; 
"how  pretty  it  is." 

With  proud  humility,  with  touching  grace,  she 
bowed  to  him. 

"I  am  happy  to  make  you  welcome  to  my  pretty 
room,"  she  said. 

The  earl  laughed — he  always  did  when  he  wanted  to 
avoid  any  exhibition  of  feeling. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  "you  have  caught  just  a  touch 
of  Sir  RaouPs  manner." 

"My  manner  is  entirely  my  own,"  she  replied, 
proudly.  "Lord  Caraven,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of 
you." 

"I  do  not  seem  to  know  myself,"  declared  the  earl, 
"seated  in  a  lady's  boudoir,  tete-a-tete  with  a  charm- 
ing woman." 

"You  are  mocking  me,  my  lord,"  she  said.  "If  you 
will  please  to  listen,  I  will  soon  release  you  from  the 
tete-a-tete. " 

He  laid  his  handsome  head  back  on  the  luxurious 
chair,  and  she,  looking  at  him,  felt  for  half  a  moment 
a  longing  in  her  heart  that  all  were  different — that  he 


234 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


was  at  home  there — that  she  could  kneel  by  his  side 
and  draw  the  handsome  face  down  to  hers  and  whis- 
per her  requests.  Then  she  felt  angry  with  herself. 
What  a  day-dream — what  a  foolish  day-dream  about 
the  husband  who  did  not  like  her! 

"Lord  Caraven,"  she  said,  "I  have  a  favor  to  ask 
from  you — a  great  favor.    Will  you  grant  it?" 

"I  will  hear  first  what  it  is,"  he  replied. 

Then  she  told  him.  Her  heart  sank  as  she  saw  his 
face  grow  dark  and  angry. 

"Which  of  the  servants  told  you  that  woman  was 
here?" 

"Will  you  tell  me  why  you  wish  to  know,  Lord 

Caraven?  " 

"Yes;  the  moment  I  know  I  shall  dismiss  him,  with- 
out a  character,  for  disobedience." 

"If  he  disobeyed  you,"  she  said,  "I  am  sorry  for  it. 
But  pray  do  not  allow  that  to  influence  you  against 
my  petition." 

He  turned  round  angrily. 

"Plainly  speaking,  Hildred,"  he  said,  "I  have  quite 
enough  annoyance  with  my  tenants  without  interfer- 
ence from  you,  and  I  cannot  allow — " 

"Lord  Caraven,"  she  interposed  eagerly,  "do  believe 
me.  I  have  not  the  least  wish  to  interfere;  but  this 
poor  woman — if  you  had  seen  her  pale,  hungry  face 
and  sad  eyes." 

"It  is  easy  enough  to  look  hungry,"  he  said,  impa- 
tiently. 

"You  do  not  mean  that.  I  know  you  have  pity  and 
compassion  for  the  unfortunate — I  have  seen  you  kind 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


235 


and  generous  to  them;  and  this  poor  woman's  hus- 
band— and  she  loves  him — mind,  her  husband,  Lord 
Caraven,  died  to  save  your  birds.  Think — a  man 
killed  that  a  few  birds  may  live!  " 

"That  is  your  way  of  looking  at  the  matter.  Do 
you  know  that  you  are  attacking  the  very  base  of 
society?" 

"What  am  I  attacking  in  this  case?"  she  asked. 

"The  Game  Laws — the  most  glorious  part  of  the 
British  Constitution.  John  Woodruff  died  in  defense 
of  the  Game  Laws,  not  for  my  birds. " 

"As  you  will,"  she  said,  gently.  "You  understand 
things  of  that  kind  better  than  I  do.  I  only  know 
how  sorry  I  felt  for  the  poor  woman  who  loved  her 
husband — loved  him  and  lost  him." 

The  unconscious  pathos,  the  sweet  sadness  in  her 
voice,  as  she  uttered  these  words,  both  touched  and 
angered  him.    He  meant  to  speak  gently. 

"Hildred,  you  must  not  ask  me  to  interfere.  It 
does  not  do  to  give  way  to  one's  feelings  always.  I 
cannot  interfere  with  my  tenants.  They  must  pay 
their  rents." 

"But,"  she  said,  pleadingly,  "this  is  a  matter  of 
only  four-and-sixpence  a  week — it  cannot  possibly  hurt 
you. " 

"It  is  not  a  question  of  money,  but  of  principle. 
As  Blantyre  says,  if  I  let  this  woman  live  rent  free, 
every  widow  on  my  estate  will  want  to  do  the  same. 
If  I  excuse  her,  I  may  excuse  all  the  rest.  As  Blantyre 
says,  it  is  a  bad  precedent.  I  might  go  on  until  every 
tenant  on  the  estate  found  some  touching  and  pathet* 


236 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


ic  reason  why  he  should  not  pay  any  rent — then 

what  would  become  of  me?" 

"But  that  is  not  probable;  and  I  ask  this  as  afi 
especial  favor.    You  will  not  refuse,  I  am  sure." 

"Blantyre  especially  warned  me  about  this  very 
matter.  He  said  she  would  be  coming  again  and 
again.  Do  you  know  that  we  could  get  more  for  the 
cottage  if  we  tried?" 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  she  controlled  her- 
self.   To  grow  impatient  would  be  to  lose  her  cause. 

"Will  you  let  me  pay  the  rent  for  her,  then?"  she 
asked. 

He  laughed. 

"If  you  do,  we  shall  raise  it  to  three  hundred  a 
year.  Seriously  speaking,  Hildred,  you  must  not  inter- 
fere— it  will  not  do.  It  would  be  a  fatal  precedent.  I 
must  absolutely  forbid  you  to  say  any  more." 

She  turned  from  him,  her  face  growing  pale,  her 
lips  quivering  with  anger.  He  saw  it,  and  felt  almost 
sorry. 

"I  regret  to  refuse  you,  Hildred,"  he  said,  rising  to 
quit  the  room.  "It  is  the  first  favor  you  have  asked 
of  me,  and  I  should  have  liked  to  grant  it.  But  I 
promised  Blantyre  faithfully  that  I  would  not  inter- 
fere. We  must  make  what  we  can  of  the  estate,  and 
we  shall  never  do  it  if  we   interfere  with  Blantyre." 

She  raised  her  head  with  a  charming  air  of  pique 
and  disdain. 

"Pray,  my  lord,"  she  said,  "may  I   ask  you  if  you 
have  left  your  conscience  in  Mr.    Blantyre's  hands?" 
"He  would  not  have  much  to  hold,"  laughed  the 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


n 


earl.    "My  conscience  would  go  into  a  small  space.1 
Her  face  flushed,  her  eyes  shone  brightly. 
"Let  me  ask  you,  my  lord,"  she   said,  "have  yoi 

ever  remembered  that  all   this   wealth  was   given  to 

you,  not  for  your  own  especial  self-indulgence,  but  in 

trust  for  the  poor  and  the  needy?  " 

"I  should  like  you  to  tell   Blantyre   that,"  sneered 

the  earl.     "I  have  never  remembered    anything  of  the 

kind." 

"Then  let  me  tell  you  it  is  true.  I  would  sooner 
be  the  poorest  beggar  turned  from  your  door  than  I 
would  be  you,  with  your  titles,  your  estates,  yom 
wealth,  your  dead  conscience,  and  your  dead  heart. 
Good  morning,  my  lord." 

And  with  an  air  of  dignity  the  young  countess 
swept  from  the  room,  leaving  him  dumb  with  rage. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


"you  are  responsible  to  heaven  for  your  depend- 
ents" 

Lady  Caraven  was  not  naturally  prone  to  anger,  but 
now  she  trembled  with  rage  that  she  should  be  so 
cruelly  insulted,  denied  the  first  favor  she  had  ever 
asked — denied  because  she  took  a  generous  interest  in 
surely  the  lowliest  creature  on  her  husband's  estate. 
It  was  unheard  of.  She  did  not  give  vent  to  her  anger 
by  any  loud  outburst  of  emotion.  She  did  not  pace  up 
and  down  the  room,  clinching  her  hands;  but  she  stood 
silent,  her  face  pale  as  death,  her  eyes  filled  with 
angry  fire.  That  he  should  dare  to  be  unkind  to  her! 
That  he  should  have  listened  with  that  satirical  smile 
on  his  face,  perhaps  laughing  at  her  in  his  heart! 
She  shrank  from  herself. 

"Heaven  help  me,"  she  said,  "but  I  am  afraid  that 
I  hate  him!  " 

Her  hands  trembled  slightly 

"I  am  in  a  passion,"  she  said  to  herself,  "and  no 
wonder.    Was  ever  wife  refused  such  a  trifle?" 

While  she  stood  trying  to  stem  the  wild  current  of 
anger  and  to  cool  the  fire  that  seemed  to  burn  her 
heart  and  brain,  a  servant,   her  own  maid,  entered. 

"My  lady,"  she  said,  "the  earl  is  seeking  you.  Shall 
I  tell  him  that  you  are  here?" 

238 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


239 


"If  you  please,"  she  replied. 

She  neither  moved  nor  stirred  when  the  earl  came 
in  She  neither  turned  her  beautiful  head  nor  raised  her 
proud  eyes.  He  looked  at  the  tall,  slender  figure,  so 
unbending,  so  defiant. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  sharply,  "I  wish  to  speak  to 
you." 

She  did  not  even  raise  her  white  eyelids  or  give  the 
faintest  sign  that  she  had  heard  him. 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  you,"  he  repeated,  more  sharply. 

"I  can  hear,"  said  Lady  Caraven.    "Speak  on." 

"But  1  do  not  choose  to  speak,  madam,  unless  you 
give  me  your  attention." 

Never  did  empress  of  old  turn  a  haughtier  face  to 
her  foe  than  she  turned  now  to  him — proud,  defiant, 
unbending. 

"I  would  not  submit  to  him  now,"  she  thought,  "if 
I  must  die  for  it." 

She  might  have  stood  as  a  statue  of  pride. 

"Listen  to  me,"  said  the  earl.  "I  have  been  think- 
ing over  what  you  said,  and  I  do  not  like  it.  Do  you 
hear?    I  do  not  like  it." 

She  answered  never  a  word. 

"Do  not  irritate  me,"  he  said.  "I  am  not  always 
master  of  myself.  I — I  have  a  good  temper  generally, 
but  when  I  am  angry  I  forget  myself.  Do  not  irritate 
me. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  irritate  you,"  she  replied,  with 
quiet  dignity.  "Say  what  you  have  to  say  that  I*may 
go  quickly." 

"I  have  to  say  this,  Lady  Caraven,  that  you  must 


240 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


not  speak  to  me  again  as  you  have  done  to-day — never; 
I  cannot  permit  it.  The  wealth  of  Ravensmere  is 
yours,  not  mine;  but  the  right  to  manage  my  tenants 
is  mine,  and  I  will  allow  no  one  to  dictate  to  me." 

"The  right  to  manage  them  is  most  certainly  yours, 
but  I  contend  that  they  are  cruelly  mismanaged,  and 
that  the  wrongs  done  to  the  poor  on  your  estate  will 
recoil  on  your  own  head,  as  will  the  waste,  the  extrav- 
agance, and  the  folly." 

"I  am  willing  that  they  should.  Still  I  will  take 
.anything  but  advice,  and  that  least  of  all  from  you, 
i,ady  Caraven,  although  you  may  think  that  you  have 
|the  best  right  to  give  it.  I  have  no  wish  to  repeat 
any  angry  words,  but  you  must  understand  once  and 
[for  all  that  I  brook  no  dictation." 

She  bowed  to  him.  . 

"Is  that  all  you  wished  to  say,  my  lord?" 

He  looked  at  the  beautiful  white  proud  face,  so  still, 
'SO  full  of  repressed  feeling. 

"I  should  like  to  ask  you,"  he  said,  "why  you  dis- 
like Mr.  Blantyre  so  much?  You  have  seen  little  of 
3bim,  yet  you  distrust  him." 

"I  do,"  she  replied,  quietly.  "I  did  the  first  time  I 
§aw  him.  He  commits  positive  cruelties  in  your  name 
and  then  lays  all  at  your  door.  'It  is  the  earFs  orders/ 
he  says;  and  under  the  sanction  of  your  name — a  name 
that  ought  to  be  honored  and  revered — I  say  that 
great  cruelties,  acts  of  great  injustice  are  committed." 

"How  am  I  to  know  that  it  is  true?"  he  asked. 

"Go  yourself  among  the  people  and  ask.  You  will 
tee  men  with  large  families  and  eighteen  shillings  a 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


week  to  support  them  with,  whose  rents  have  been 
raised  one  pound  a  year — their  rents,  not  their  wages; 
those  are  the  laborers  employed  on  your  estate — the 
hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water — the  poorest, 
the  most  wretched  class  of  men  in  England." 

"That  is  not  Blantyre's  fault.  You  would  revolution- 
ize society,"  he  said,  interested  in  spite  of  himself  by 
the  passion  of  her  words. 

"I  know  it  is  not  Blantyre's  fault.  If  one  of  the 
children  of  a  household  goes  wrong,  it  is  not  the 
hired  servant  who  is  to  blame,  but  the  father  and 
mother.  I  know  it  is  not  Blantyre's  fault;  but  at  the 
great  day,  when  the  wasted  lives  and  the  broken 
hearts  of  these  people  cry  out  for  vengeance,  we  shall 
know  whose  fault  it  was." 

He  shrank  from  the  clear  gaze  of  the  glowing,  elo- 
quent eyes. 

"While  we  are  speaking  about  it,"  she  continued 
in  the  same  tone  of  repressed  passion,  "I  will  tell  you 
what  I  think.  Heaven  placed  you  in  a  high  position 
and  intrusted  you  with  vast  wealth;  the  lives,  the 
interests,  and  the  well-being  of  innumerable  depend- 
ents lie  in  your  hands.    What  have  you  done?" 

He  shrank  as  though  the  hand  raised  in  warning 
had  struck  him. 

"What  have  you  done?"  continued  the  voice,  so 
pitilessly  sweet.  "You  have  had  but  one  object  and 
that  has  been  to  make  the  most  you  could  out  of 
them,  to  swell  your  own  income,  no  matter  at  what 
cost  to  them.  You  have  never  studied  their  interests. 
Neither  their  bodies  nor  their  souls  have  had  any  care 
from  you.    Is  that  right?" 


242 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"That  is  all  nonsense,"  he  replied,  more  startled 
than  he  would  have  cared  to  own.  "You  are  looking 
at  the  matter  from  a  preacher's  point  of  view." 

"No;  I  look  at  it  as  any  sensible  person  would  look 
at  it.  A  great  land-owner  is  a  great  power.  He  holds 
a  great  trust  in  his  hands — life  and  death  are  almost 
in  his  gift.  You  have  been  extravagant,  without  a 
thought  save  of  self-indulgence,  knowing  naught  but 
your  own  pleasure.  Shall  I  tell  you  what  you  ought 
to  be? " 

He  was  silenced  by  her  passion  and  eloquence — - 
he  had  no  anger,  no  impatience  left. 

"You  can  tell  me  what  you  like,"  he  replied. 

"I  will  tell  you.  Even  as  a  great  king  is  the  father 
of  his  people,  so  should  a  great  landlord  be.  You 
ought  to  make  the  interests  of  the  people  your  own. 
When  the  two  clash,  you  should  give  way.  Their 
cares  and  sorrow  should  in  some  measure  be  yours. 
You  should  have  wise  compassion,  prudent  forbear- 
ance, unlimited  self-control.  You  should  know  how 
to  reward  the  good,  to  punish  the  bad.  Every  child 
born  on  your  estate  has  an  immortal  soul — you  should 
provide  churches,  schools,  and  libraries.  You  should 
know  where  to  give  in  charity,  where  to  withhold  your 
hand.  You  should  know  that  the  health  and  in  some 
measure  the  morals  of  the  people  you  govern  are  in 
your  hands,  flourishing  or  otherwise,  according  to  the 
houses  you  give  them  to  live  in.  I  do  not  say  alto- 
gether, but  in  great  measure  you  are  responsible  to 
heaven  for  your  dependents,  your  laborers,  your  serv- 
ants, the  poor  at  your  gates. " 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


243 


He  stood  perfectly  still,  listening  intently. 

"Have  you  finished,  Hildred?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "All  that  I  say  is  in  vain; 
therefore  I  will  say  no  more." 

She  did  not  wait  to  hear  what  reply  he  would  make 
— it  would  have  been  better  had  she  done  so — but  she 
swept  from  the  room. 

It  was  a  humiliation  for  her  when  Ellen  Woodruff 
came  again,  to  tell  her  that  she  had  failed  in  the  mis- 
sion— that,  even  at  her  solicitation,  the  earl  had 
refused  the  little  boon  she  asked.  She  would  have 
given  much  if  she  could  have  shown  even  to  this  poor 
widow  some  proof  of  his  desire  to  please  her — but 
she  could  not. 

She  was  one  of  those  people  who  never  defer  a  dis- 
agreeable duty.  She  sent  that  same  day  for  the  poor 
creature,  who  came  trembling  for  the  fate  of  herself 
and  her  children.  Lady  Caraven  received  her  very 
kindly,  but  entered  at  once  into  the  matter. 

"I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,"  she  said,  "that  I  have 
failed.  Lord  Caraven  does  not  feel  inclined  to  forego 
the  rent." 

"It  is  not  my  lord,"  cried  the  woman.  "I  know  it 
is  not.  It  is  Mr.  Blantyre's  fault;  he  said  I  should 
and  must  pay.  But  I  cannot,  my  lady;  I  have  not  the 
means." 

"I  have  thought  it  all  over,"  said  Lady  Caraven. 
"I  cannot  get  the  cottage  rent  free  for  you,  but  I  can 
pay  the  rent.  I  will  give  it  to  you  every  month,  but 
it  must  be  on  the  condition  that  you  tell  no  one. 
Lord  Caraven  might  be  displeased  if  he  heard  it." 


244 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


It  was  humiliating  at  first  to  give  charities  unknown 
to  her  husband,  and  then  beg  that  they  might  be  kept 
secret.  The  gratitude  of  the  poor  woman  in  some 
measure  compensated  her,  and  made  her  feel  less 
miserable. 

But,  though  Lord  Caraven  had  laughed  and  sneered 
and  spoken  angrily,  he  had  not  forgotten  his  wife's 
words.  Not  for  the  world  would  he  have  owned  it, 
or  that  they  had  made  the  least  impression  on  him — 
on  the  contrary,  he  was,  if  possible,  more  brusque  and 
abrupt,  quoted  Blantyre  more  frequently,  and  talked 
more  than  ever  of  what  he  would  do  with  the  poor  ten- 
ants— yet  her  words  haunted  him.  They  seemed  to  be 
written  in  letters  of  fire,  let  him  turn  his  eyes  whither 
he  would. 

As  to  Hildred,  her  humiliation  had  been  great. 
She  was  fast  losing  heart  and  patience;  her  hope  had 
died  a  lingering  death — there  was  no  gleam  of  com- 
fort left  her,  turn  which  way  she  might.  Sir  Raoul 
was  ill,  and  seldom  able  to  leave  his  room.  Owing 
to  the  number  of  guests  in  the  house,  she  could  not 
spend  so  much  time  with  him  as  formerly.  She  was 
dispirited  and  depressed.  Above  all,  she  disliked 
some  of  the  visitors  whom  Lord  Caraven  had  invited. 
There  was  one  who  was  young,  effeminate,  weak  in 
character,  not  much  stronger  in  mind — a  Lieutena  t 
Hilstone,  who  had  just  succeeded  to  a  large  fortune, 
and  who  seemed  at  a  loss  how  to  get  rid  of  it  most 
quickly.  Lady  Caraven  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  that 
some  of  the  visitors  did  not  scruple  as  to  how  much 
they  won  from  him.    More  than   once  she   had  over- 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


245 


heard  heavy  wagers  made  with  him  which  she  knew 
he  must  lose.  She  was  scornfully  impatient.  Was 
not  this  conduct  of  her  husband's  disgraceful — to 
allow  gambling  and  betting  under  his  roof — to  allow 
a  weak  young  soldier  like  the  lieutenant  to  be  what 
she  considered  robbed? 

One  of  the  earl's  most  intimate  friends — one,  indeed, 
who  knew  all  his  affairs — was  Sir  Arthur  Oldys;  and 
Hildred  overheard  him,  quite  by  chance,  one  day,  lay- 
ing a  heavy  wager  with  the  young  lieutenant.  She 
looked  at  him  calmly. 

"Sir  Arthur,"  she  said, "I  do  not  consider  that  it  is 
quite  fair;  Lieutenant  Hilstone  has  no  chance.  You 
know  more  than  he  does  when  you  lay  such  a  wager — 
you  know  that  you  will  win  it. " 

She  never  forgot  the  sneer  with  which  he  turned  to 
her. 

"Lady  Caraven,"  he  said,  "permit  me  to  offer  my 
congratulations.  You  understand  money  matters  almost 
as  well  as  your  talented  father." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


"our  lives  are  very  much  what  we  ourselves  make 

them" 

Without  replying  to  Sir  Arthur  Oldys'  insult,  with- 
out word  or  comment,  Lady  Caraven  instantly  quitted 
the  room,  her  heart  burning  with  hot  indignation. 
How  well  her  husband's  friends  must  ktiow  that  he 
did  not  love  her!  They  would  never  dare  to  speak  to 
her  as  they  did  but  for  that  knowledge.  How  well 
they  must  know  it,  when  they  dared  to  try  to  insult 
her  through  her  father! 

Yet  she  was  powerless  to  resent  it.  If  she  com- 
plained to  the  earl,  he  would  at  once  take  part  against 
her — beside  her  own  pride  would  not  permit  her  to  do 
so.  They  might  insult  her  as  they  would;  it  was  not 
from  him  that  she  would  seek  protection.  They  must 
have  seen  that,  after  all,  she  was  but  the  nominal  mis- 
tress of  the  house — that  she  was  but  a  kind  of  head 
housekeeper — Countess  of  Caraven  in  name,  but  in 
reality  a  neglected,  unloved,  despised  wife.  She  under- 
stood how  and  why  these  gentlemen  failed  in  respect; 
her  husband  had  set  them  the  example. 

Lady  Caraven  felt  something  like  despair.  Was 
such  a  life,  after  all,  worth  having?  Was  her  title 
worth  undergoing  so  much  for?  She  was  living  with- 
out hope,  without  love,  without  happiness,  subject  to 

346 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


much  impertinence.  Surely  life  was  not  iu<*«*i^  like 
this,  or  why  did  people  talk  of  its  bijghtnesr,  its 
beauty?  There  was  nothing  to  which  she  clung  in 
the  life  she  was  leading.  She  would  iwve  separated 
herself  from  Ravensmere,  and  all  that  it  contained— 
except  Sir  Raoul—  without  a  sigh;  it  rias  even  worse 
than  that — she  disliked  all  belonging  to  it. 

Why  should  she  submit  any  longer?  She  would 
rather  be  a  governess,  rudely  treated  by  an  upstart 
woman,  than  a  countess  neglecteu  and  despised  by 
her  own  husband,  and  insulted  by  his  friends.  She 
would  rather  forego  every  luxury  and  work  for  her  daily 
bread,  than  bear  this  life  any  longer.  Why  should 
she?  The  earl  had  married  her  for  her  money;  now 
he  had  it — nothing  could  take  it  from  him.  Her  father 
had  sold  her  for  a  title;  he  could  call  himself  the 
father  of  Lady  Caraven — nothing  could  undo  that.  But 
she  was  indisposed  any  longer  to  be  the  victim  of 
both.    She  would  seek  her  freedom  and  would  find  it. 

She  walked  with  head  erect,  with  flushed  face  and 
angry  eyes,  through  the  splendid  rooms.  They  were 
all  more  or  less  occupied.  In  the  library  some  gentle- 
men were  writing  letters — the  billiard-room  was 
always  engaged — the  ladies  of  the  party  occupied 
different  apartments.  It  seemed  to  her  that  nowhere 
could  she  find  peace.  Her  whole  soul  was  in  a  fever 
of  unrest,  a  tumult  of  sadness  and  weariness.  Her 
heart  ached,  her  head  throbbed. 

She  longed,  with  desperate  longing,  for  a  few 
minutes'  repose;  it  seemed  to  her  that  her  life  was 
hurrying   on   like   a    swift    river   into   an  unknown 


248 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


sea.  She  wanted  to  stop  and  see  whither  it  was 
going.  Everywhere  there  was  the  same  noise — the 
deep  voices  and  deep  laughter  of  men,  the  light  tones 
and  gay  laughter  of  women.  There  was  not  a  spot 
in  the  whole  place  for  rest.  She  pressed  her  hands 
against  the  temples  that  throbbed  so  violently.  She 
looked  around  her  half  irresolutely.  Whither  should 
she  go?  Then  she  bethought  herself  of  the  pleasaunce 
— the  only  spot  where  she  could  even  imagine  herself 
alone. 

The  pleasaunce  must  Lave  been  constructed  by 
someone  who  knew  how  human  nature  longed  for  rest. 
Few  of  the  Ravensmere  people  knew  of  its  existence 
— the  visitors  did  not.  Some  of  the  servants  were  in 
perfect  ignorance  as  to  its  whereabouts.  It  was  con- 
structed for  the  sole  and  exclusive  use  of  the  Ladies 
Caraven.  Rumor  told  strange  stories  of  one  of  the 
daughters  of  the  house  who  had  been  born  with  a 
deformity  in  the  face,  so  terrible  that  she  was  unfit 
for  human  eyes  to  gaze  on.  The  earl,  her  father, 
never  permitted  her  to  leave  the  house,  and  this  little 
garden  had  been  constructed  entirely  for  her  use.  It 
was  inclosed  between  four  high  walls,  and  those  walls 
were  covered  with  a  luxuriant  growth  of  ivy.  No  win- 
dows, no  towers,  overlooked  the  garden.  The  paths 
were  broad  and  straight,  the  whole  place  was  a  wil- 
derness of  flowers. 

The  young  countess  bethought  herself  of  this 
retreat.  She  had  one  key  of  the  dark  green  door  that 
led  to  it;  Sir  Raoul  had  another.  She  would  go 
thither,  she   said  to  herself,  and   look   her  life  in  the 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


249 


face,  and  then  decide  what  to  do  with  it.  It  was 
slowly  dawning  across  her  that  she  would  not  be  able 
to  bear  her  trials  much  longer;  that  she  could  not 
and  would  not  endure  them;  that  there  was  a  brighter 
life  somewhere,  which  she  was  determined  to  find 
out;  that  she  could  not  sacrifice  her  whole  life  to  a 
shadow  of  duty;  that,  in  fact,  she  would  go  forth  free. 

Free!  The  very  word  made  her  heart  beat  quickly. 
Free!  She  would  no  longer  be  tied  to  the  man  whose 
indolence,  whose  self-indulgence,  whose  cold  indiffer- 
ence and  neglect,  whose  utter  want  of  interest  in  his 
duties,  irritated  and  annoyed  her  every  hour  of  the 
day;  to  the  handsome,  indolent  man  who  allowed  fever 
and  disease  to  run  riot  in  the  cottages  belonging  to 
him,  while  he  wrung  from  the  tenants  all  that  he 
could  get;  who  abandoned  every  duty  and  was  satis- 
fied to  leave  the  most  solemn  of  his  engagements  to  a 
man  like  John  Blantyre. 

She  was  tired  of  it.  She  would  be  free — free  to  go 
whither  she  would.  Why  should  she  remain?  Her 
father  had  deceived  her — he  had  told  her  that  she  could 
live  without  love,  that  nothing  was  of  any  worth  ex- 
cept rank,  wealth,  and  position.  She  had  found  it  to 
be  untrue.  Looking  back  now,  she  regretted  bitterly 
that  she  had  not  decided  otherwise,  and  had  not  re- 
fused to  live  without  love. 

She  went  to  the  pleasaunce.  If  she  were  interrupted 
there,  it  could  be  only  by  her  husband  or  Sir  Raoul; 
there  was  no  fear  of  other  intruders.  A  sense  of  relief 
came  to  her  when  she  found  herself  between  the  four 
high  walls.    The   blue   sky  smiled  down  upon  her. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


the  languid  air  stirred  faintly,  the  scent  of  roses  came 
to  her  on  the  wind;  it  was  like  a  reprieve  to  enter 
that  quiet  retreat,  and  feel  alone. 

She  walked  down  one  of  the  broad,  straight  paths 
to  where  crimson  carnations  grew  side  by  side  witl> 
white  lilies,  and  there  she  seated  herself  to  rest — alone. 
And  it  was  so  sweet  to  be  alone.  There  was  no  sound 
of  men's  voices  or  of  light  laughter;  no  sneer  could 
reach  her  where  she  was;  there  was  nothing  but  the 
blue  sky  above,  and  the  breath  of  the  sweet  western 
wind.  She  was  shut  out  from  all  sounds — alone,  with 
the  thread  of  her  life  in  her  hands. 

It  was  a  dreary  tangle,  a  miserable  disappointment. 
She  was  tired  and  weary.  Looking  back,  she  thought 
she  must  have  been  mad  to  sacrifice  herself  as  she 
had  done;  married  for  her  money,  sold  for  a  title,  her 
own  will,  her  own  womanhood,  had  never  asserted 
itself.  Her  handsome,  indolent  husband  did  nothing 
but  treat  her  with  indifference  aird  contempt.  She 
could  do  nothing  for  him.  He  was  on  the  way  to 
ruin.  How  could  she  arrest  him?  His  whole  life 
was  a  round  of  senseless  pleasure  from  which  she 
could  never  divert  him.  He  had  all  that  he  wanted 
— her  money.  Now  surely  she  could  go  free — free,  to 
lead  a  more  congenial  life,  where  she  would  not  live 
in  the  midst  of  annoyances  and  vexations. 

She  would  go  and  live  in  France  or  Italy — anywhert 
away  from  England!  Her  father  might  be  angry.  She 
would  not  heed  it.  He  had  shown  but  little  love  for 
her;  she  would  not  consider  him.  The  only  regret 
she   felt — and  it  was  a  deep  one — was  for  Sir  Raoul. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


-Sir  Raoul,  the  only  human  being  who  cared  for  her — 
what  would  he  say  when  he  knew  that  she  was  going? 
He  would  miss  her  so  terribly;  but,  even  for  his  sake, 
dear  as  he  was  to  her,  she  could  not  stay.  He  would 
miss  her,  he  who  loved  her  with  a  true,  loyal  love; 
but  she  would  tell  him  how  wretched  she  was,  how 
utterly  miserable,  and  then  he  would  see  that  she  must 
go. 

Suddenly — she  could  not  tell  why — the  self-command 
of  long  years  broke  down.  Her  pride,  her  courage, 
her  high  spirit,  the  proud  sense  of  resentment  that 
had  sustained  her,  broke  down,  and  she  wept  as  she 
had  seldom  wept  in  her  life  before.  The  passionate 
tears  seemed  to  relieve  her.  It  was  a  luxury  to  weep 
there  alone — for  once  to  give  herself  up  to  a  full 
sense  of  her  misery,  of  her  disappointment,  of  her 
blighted  life — for  once  to  dare  to  look  the  truth  full 
in  the  face  and  own  to  herself  that  she  was  one  of  the 
most  miserable,  most  wretched  girls  in  the  whole 
wide  world. 

She  sobbed  out  the  words.  It  was  a  relief  to  say 
them — a  relief  to  say  even  to  herself  that  she  was 
miserable;  she  had  been  so  proudly  reticent,  so  self- 
restrained. 

Suddenly  a  hand  was  laid  upon  her  shoulder,  and, 
looking  up,  she  saw  Sir  Raoul  standing  by  her  side. 
In  his  pale  face,  worn  with  pain  and  suffering,  she 
saw  infinite  pity,  infinite  love;  compassion  and  ten- 
derness shone  in  his  eyes.  He  had  never  looked  so 
true  and  so  noble  as  he  did  just  then.  He  bent  over 
her. 


252 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Hildred,  poor  child,  is  it  so  bad  as  this?"  he  asked. 

"It  is  so  bad,"  she  said,  "that  it  could  not  be  worse, 
Raoul — nothing  could  be  worse.  I  am  tired  of  it. 
I  am  going  away." 

"Going  away!"  he  repeated,  slowly.  "That  is  what 
I  feared,  tlas  your  patience,  your  forbearance,  come 
to  an  end  at  last,  Hildred?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  truthfully,  "it  has  at  last." 

He  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then,  as  she 
looked  up  at  him,  a  great  awe  stole  over  her.  His 
eyes  were  raised  to  the  clear  skies,  his  lips  moved. 

Surely  in  a  picture  she  had  seen  a  figure  something 
like  his,  with  a  serene  light  on  the  brow.  Her  anger, 
her  impatience,  her  bitter  contempt  and  dislike 
seemed  to  fall  away  from  her,  even  from  that  one 
look  at  his  face.  She  rose  suddenly  into  something 
nobler  than  a  weeping,  vengeful,  unhappy  woman. 

"You  are  going  away,  Hildred — you  can  bear  it  no 
longer?  Poor  child!  This  reminds  me  of  an  hour  I 
spent  once  with  a  soldier  who  was  determined  to 
desert  his  post  and  fly." 

"I  am  not  a  soldier,"  she  said,  with  a  more  pitiful 
smile. 

"We  will  talk  it  over,"  he  replied;  and  he  seated 
himself  by  the  crimson  carnations  at  her  side.  "I  will 
tell  you  all  I  think,"  he  said,  "and  we  will  talk  it 
over;  then  you  shall  decide." 

She  was  trying  to  harden  her  heart  against  him, 
to  say  to  herself  that,  no  matter  what  he  thought, 
urged,  or  said,  it  should  make  no  difference — she 
would  go  away.    He  was  sensitive  and  proud,  he  was 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


253 


tender  of  heart,  but  how  could  he  understand  her  case? 
That  which  tortured  her  was  nothing  to  him. 

He  looked  at  her  with  the  same  sweet,  noble  com- 
passion that  seemed  to  her  almost  more  than  human. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "will  you  trust 
me  wholly?  Will  you  tell  me  the  true  story  of  your 
marriage?" 

"Do  you  not  know  it,  Raoul?  It  seems  to  me  so 
shameful  I  have  no  wish  to  repeat  it. " 

"I  know  something  of  it,"  he  replied;  "but  not  the 
whole  truth.  I  know  that  you  will  tell  it.  to  me.  I 
ask  you  as  a  physician  asks.  I  must  know  the  whole 
truth  before  I  can  advise.  Tell  me  one  thing — did  you 
love  your  husband  at  all  before  your  marriage?" 

"No,"  she  replied;  "not  in  the  least." 

"Will  you  tell  me  again  why  you,  a  woman  natu- 
rally noble,  naturally  tender  and  true  of  heart,  mar- 
ried without  love?" 

She  glanced  at  him,  her  beautiful  face  full  of  per- 
plexity; she  had  gathered  a  crimson  carnation,  and  was 
holding  it  between  her  slender  fingers. 

"I  will  tell  you,  Raoul.  I  asked  jny  father  if  love 
were  necessary  for  happiness,  and  he  said  'No.'  I 
believed  him;  hence  my  mistake." 

"Your  father  deceived  you." 

"He  did  deceive  me,"  she  replied. 

He  looked  at  the  downcast  face. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  gently,  "I  do  not  remember  that 
I  have  ever  met  with  a  more  thorough  woman  than 
)'ou.  You  have  all  a  woman's  tenderness  of  heart, 
quickness  of  instinct,  fertility  of  imagination,  grace 


*54 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


of  mind — your  ideas  and  thoughts  are  all  womanly 
and  true.  How  could  you  be  so  false  to  your  whole 
nature  as  to  believe  that  even  when  your  father  told 

it  to  you?" 

"I  cannot  tell.  As  you  say,  my  own  innate  per- 
ceptions ought  to  have  told  me  it  was  false,  but  they 
did  not.  One  reason  is  that  I  had  thought  so  little 
of  the  matter.  I  loved  study  and  books;  romance 
seldom,  if  ever,  came  into  my  thoughts.  I  had  no  girl 
friends  to  converse  with.  If  ever  I  thought  of  love  at 
all,  it  was  as  of  some  bright  fairyland  that  all  the  world 
sought,  but  few  ever  reached.  I  asked  my  father  if 
one  could  live  happily  without  love.  He  told  me  'Yes* 
—  even  more  happily — that  love  was  a  fever  which 
burned  and  fretted;  He  said  that  the  calmest,  the 
most  peaceful  of  lives  were  those  in  which  love  had 
no  share.'* 

"And  you  believed  him?" 

"Yes;  I  told  him  what  poets  and  novelists  said— • 
how  a  great  poet  had  said  it  was  better  'to  have  loved 
and  lost  than  never  to  have  loved  at  all.'  He  declared 
it  was  all  nonsense,  'the  poet's  trade,  the  writer's  art/ 
until — believe  me,  Raoul — I  half  thought  it  a  noble 
thing  to  live  without  love.  Then — let  me  be  quite 
frank — the  notion  of  being  a  countess  pleased  me. 
Let  me  even  be  more  frank.  I  saw  Lord  Caraven, 
and  liked  him.  He  looked  handsome  and  fascinating 
— he  seemed  to  differ  from  the  German  professors  or 
the  city  men  with  whom  I  was  familiar.  I  liked  him, 
and  I  made  a  great  mistake." 

"Will  you  tell  me  what  the  mistake  was,  Hildred?" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM  255 

Yes.  1  knew  nothing  of  money  matters — I  did 
not  even  know  that  I  was  a  great  heiress — and  I  was 
foolish  enough  to  think  that  he  must  have  seen  me 
somewhere  and  have  liked  me — that  he  must  have 
admired  me  or  he  would  not  have  wished  to  marry 
me." 

"Poor  child!"  he  said,  with  a  grave,  pitying  face. 

"I  could  not  understand  it,"  she  continued;  "no  one 
was  ever  so  puzzled.  I  could  not  help  noticing  his 
indifference  and  his  reserve,  but  I  thought  that  would 
all  die  away.  Every  day  I  was  expecting  to  hear  that 
he  had  had  some  reason  for  his  coldness — some  reason 
that  had  passed  away.  Every  day  I  expected  to  hear 
the  secret  of  his  indifference.  I  hoped  against  hope — 
you  see  how  frankly  I  am  speaking,  Sir  Raoul—  and 
then  I  awoke  to  the  sure  and  certain  conviction  that 
he  not  only  did  not  love  me  but  that  he  absolutely 
isliked  me." 

"Poor  child!"  said  the  grave  voice  again. 

"Yes,  I  was  deeply  to  be  pitied.  I  was  sorry  even 
for  myself.  What  made  it  worse  was  that  at  that  time 
I  was  beginning  to  care  very  much  for  my  husband. 
If  he  had  been  kind  to  me  I  should  have  loved  him. 
Now" — and,  stopping  suddenly,  she  wrung  her  hands 
in  terrible  despair.  "Now,"  she  continued,  "I  dislike 
him— I  almost  hate  him." 

The  beautiful  face  flushed  hotly — the  dark  eyes  were 
full  of  a  strange  light. 

"I  am  alarmed  at  myself,"  she  went  on.  "I  did  not 
know  that  it  was  within  me — this  power  of  hatred.  1 
am  so  frightened  that  I  am  going  away,  Raoul.  My 
patience  has  failed  roe." 


256 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"It  is  a  sad  story.  Tell  me,  Hildred — why  does 
your  patience  fail?  I  love  Ulric — I  love  you;  I  can 
judge  between  you.    Why  does  your  patience  fail?" 

"I  do  not  want  to  speak  evil  of  my  husband,"  she 
replied,  slowly;  "the  very  fact  that  he  has  injured  me 
should  make  me  generous  to  him — the  very  fact  that 
I  dislike  him  should  compel  me  to  speak  well  of  him. 
I  love  a  noble  foe." 

"If  you  were  a  foe  at  all,  you  would  be  a  noble 
one,"  he  said;  "but  you  are  not.  You  may  speak 
frankly,  because  you  are  speaking  to  one  who  loves 
Ulric  Caraven  in  spite  of  his  faults.  Tell  me  honestly 
all  about  your  dislike." 

She  was  silent  for  some  minutes,  and  the  crimson 
leaves  of  the  clove-carnation  fell  one  by  one  to  the 
ground. 

"I  do  not  like  speaking  of  it,"  she  began.  "You 
must  see,  Raoul,  as  well  as  I  do — you  must  under- 
stand. How  could  anyone  help  despising  and  dis- 
liking a  man  who  lives  for  himself,  who  cares  for 
nothing  but  his  own  pleasure,  and  leaves  every  duty 
neglected?  How  can  I  love  a  man  who  married  me 
only  for  my  money,  despising  me  the  while? — who 
has  not  since  marriage  shown  me  the  ordinary  civil- 
ity  that  a  gentleman  never  fails  to  show  to  a  lady? 
He  is  selfish,  indolent — oh,  Raoul!  I  do  not  like  say- 
ing this,  but  if  you  saw  his  cruel  neglect,  his  cruel 
oppression — if  you  knew  how  carelessly  he  leaves  every- 
thing to  John  Blantyre,  how  heedless  he  is  as  to  the 
claims  of  justice,  you  would  be  sorry  for  me!" 

"I  see,"  he  replied,  quietly.    "Now  tell  me,  Hildred 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


257 


—I  know  you  will  speak  quite  frankly — do  you  see 
one  redeeming  quality  amid  all  your  husband's 
faults?" 

She  thought  long  before  she  answered  him,  and 
then  she  looked  info  his  face. 

"I  am  afraid  not — I  do  not  remember  one.  Yes, 
there  is  one;  I  have  never  heard  him  speak  falsely." 

Sir  RaouPs  face  cleared. 

"Ulric  was  a  truthful  boy,"  he  said.    "Do  you  know 
of  anything  else  in  his  favor?" 
She  thought  again. 

"I  think,"  she  replied,  even  more  slowly,  "that,  he 
is  tender-hearted.  He  is  not  cruel;  he  does  not  like 
to  see  people  suffer;  he  is  cruel  only  to  me." 

"True  in  word  and  tender  of  heart — those  are  two 
good  qualities;  we  know  that  he  has  a  handsome  face, 
an  easy  grace  of  manner,  a  musical  voice.  You  see  I 
am  trying  to  discover  his  good  qualities.  I  will  tell 
you  something  else.  He  is  a  spendthrift — I  do  not 
deny  it.  He  may  oppress  the  poor  on  his  estate — that 
I  am  sure  is  done  unwittingly;  but  he  has  never  yet 
refused  to  help  a  comrade  in  distress.  Years  ago, 
when  I  was  a  hard-working  soldier  with  nothing  to 
rely  on  but  my  pay,  if  I  would  have  borrowed,  he 
would  have  lent  me  half  his  fortune.  He  is  open- 
handed." 

"Yes,"  she  replied.    Sir  Raoul  smiled. 

"Listen  again,  Hildred.  He  has  done  all  kinds  of 
foolish,  mad,  senseless  actions;  but  no  one  ever  told 
of  him  that  he  had  done  a  mean  one." 

"It  was  mean  to  demand  rent  from  the  poor  widow 
whose  husband  was  killed  in  his  service." 


258 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  am  perfectly  certain  that  John  Blantyre  has  mis- 
led him,"  was  the  reply. 

"It  was  mean  to  marry  me  for  my  money,"  she  said, 
with  flushing  face. 

"Ah!  there  I  must  yield.  It  wa§  mean — it  was,  in 
one  sense,  the  worst  action  of  his  life,"  said  Sir 
Raoul.  "Let  us  make  a  resume,  Hildred.  He  is  true 
in  word,  tender  of  heart;  he  was  never  cruel;  he  is 
open-handed;  he  has  committed  but  one  mean  action; 
he  is  handsome  and  accomplished,  well-fitted  to  win 
the  heart  of  any  woman.  Tell  me — do  you  think  it 
quite  impossible  to  love  such  a  character?" 

"I  can  hardly  tell,"  she  replied,  slowly. 

"I  think  that  Ulric  Caraven  has  in  him  the  elements 
of  a  noble  character,  Hildred.  Give  to  a  sculptor  a 
block  of  shapeless  marble,  and  what  does  he  fashion 
from  it?" 

"A  beautiful  statue,"  she  replied. 

"True.  Given  a  shapeless  mass  of  qualities,  good 
and  bad  intermixed,  I  say  that  a  good  woman  from 
them  can  mold  a  beautiful  character.  Listen — I  will 
tell  you  how." 

He  had  drawn  nearer  to  her  and  the  leaves  of  the 
crimson  carnation  fell  at  his  feet;  the  western  wind 
seemed  to  pause  and  listen — it  fell  with  a  faint,  sub- 
dued sigh. 

"Listen,"  he  repeated;  and  there  was  a  grave,  sweet 
music  in  his  voice  that  overawed  her.  "Our  lives, 
Hildred,  are  very  much  what  we  ourselves  make  them; 
your  case  is,  I  grant,  an  exceptional  one — your  fate 
has,  in  some  measure,  been  decided  for  you;  but  your 
ultimate  destiny  lies  in  your  own  hands." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


259 


She  murmured  faintly  that  she  knew  it,  and  that 
she  was  unhappy  in  the  knowledge.    He  went  on. 

"Your  life  lies  before  you  now,  divided  into  two 
paths.  Granted  that  you  have  been  victimized,  that 
you  have  been  married  for  your  money,  that  you  have 
been  sold,  as  it  were,  for  a  title,  that  your  girlish 
romance  and  your  womanly  tenderness  have  been 
alike  outraged,  that  you  have  been  deceived,  per- 
suaded that  you  could  live  happily  without  love,  and 
that  you  find  it  all  a  mistake." 

"Yes,"  she  repeated,  "all  a  mistake." 

"Some  girls  in  your  place,"  he  continued,  "would 
revenge  themselves.  Having  no  home  happiness  to 
fall  back  on,  having  no  home  love,  they  would  rush  into 
excess  of  gayety  and  flirtation.  There  are  some  who 
would  do  even  worse  than  that — who  would  seek 
abroad  the  love  they  did  not  find  at  home — I  speak 
quite  frankly  to  you — but  you  are  too  good,  too  pure, 
too  true  to  think  or  dream  of  such  a  thing." 

She  made  him  no  answer;  but  Sir  Roaul  did'  not 
seem  to  heed  that.    He  went  on: 

"You  have  borne  your  fate  bravely  as  yet,  but  now 
you  have  tired  of  it;  your  courage  and  patience  have 
failed — you  have  told  me  so,  and  I  can  plainly  see 
that  in  your  own  mind  you  are  seeking  some  means  of 
escape.    Is  it  not  so?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "I  must  go  away." 

"That  would  be  a  commonplace  ending,  after  all — 
running  away  from  your  trouble.  Hildred,  I  can  see 
how  you  may  make  yourself  a  heroine — how  you  may 
rise  from  this/  your  girlish,    dissatisfied   life,    to  the 


TOO 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


grandest  heights  of  heroism.  I  see  it,  and,  unless  1 
am  greatly  mistaken  in  my  estimate  of  your  character, 
you  will  do  it;  it  is  better  to  die  on  the  heights  of 
heroism,  than  in  the  depths  of  despair/* 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  gleam  of  interest  in 
her  face.  She  had  been  so  long  without  hope  that  to 
be  told  she  could  be  heroic  awoke  within  her  a  feeling 
of  wonder. 

"There  are  two  ways  before  you— that  of  fighting 
against  your  fate,  rebelling  with  all  your  heart  against 
it,  and  that  of  submitting  to  it  and  making  the  best  of 
it.  You  may,  for  instance,  leave  Lord  Caraven.  You 
have  money  in  abundance,  you  could  live  either  in 
England  or  abroad,  you  could  have  plenty  of  society 
— but  you  would  never  be  happy.  You  might  try  to 
throw  your  whole  heart  and  soul  into  the  gayeties  and 
frivolities  of  the  world — they  would  tire  you;  you  are 
too  noble  for  that.  Then  the  chances  are  that  when 
you  found  all  these  things  pall  upon  you,  you  would 
want  to  lead  the  woman's  true  life,  which  is  that  of 
love.  Ol  all  fates  that  would  be  the  most  dreadful 
which  could  overtake  you." 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  it,"  she  replied,  slowly. 

"So  you  think  now;  but  I  am  one  of  those  who 
believe  that  no  woman  can  live  without  love.  If  you 
should  ever,  when  the  world  had  tired  you  and  your 
heart  ached  with  the  weight  of  your  loneliness,  seek 
comfort  or  consolation  in  the  love  of  any  creature^ 
your  fate  would  be  terrible.  Picture  yourself  so  situ- 
ated— a  woman  beautiful,  gifted,  and  brilliant,  mar- 
ried, yet  with  no  husband  by  her  side;  all  duties  of 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


rank  and  position  ignored;  mistress  of  a  home  that 
she  never  saw;  beautiful,  yet  miserable  with  the  never- 
failing  consciousness  that  she  had  run  away  from  a  life 
that  might  have  been  improved.  It  is  a  sorry  picture 
for  a  noble  woman,  a  sorry  ending  for  a  life  that 
might  have  been  heroic." 

"Yes,"  she  agreed,  "a  sorry  ending." 

"Now  look  on  the  other  side — submission  to  your 
fate.  Believe  this — whether  he  knows  it  or  not,  every 
man  is  more  or  less  influenced  by  a  woman;  every 
sensible  man  will  own  it — will  own  frankly  that  he 
owes  the  better  part  of  his  character  to  the  influence 
of  a  noble  woman." 

She  raised  her  eyes  with  wonder  in  their  glance  to 
his  face. 

"I  thought,"  she  said,  "that  men  affected  to  despise 
the  influence  of  women." 

"Not  true  men.  You  may  take  it  as  a  safe  rule  for  r 
guidance  that  when  a  man  rails  against  women  he  is 
no  gentleman.  He  may  be  a  parvenu,  a  snob,  an  igno- 
ramus; be  sure  of  one  thing — he  is  no  gentleman. 
The  first  instinct  of  a  gentleman  is  chivalry.  The  man 
who  has  none  should  lay  no  claim  to  that  title.  Be- 
lieve me,  Hildred,  most  great  and  wise  men  owe  the 
greater  part  of  their  wisdom  to  the  influence  of  good 
and  noble  women.  It  is  the  grandest  influence  in  the 
world" — and  the  soldier  raised  his  noble  head  proudly. 
"1  need  not  quote  history  to  you — you  are  better  versed 
in  it  than  I  am.  I  need  not  quote  biography  or  poetry, 
nor  point  to  the  man  who  said  that  he  owed  all  his 
success  in  life  to  his  mother,  nor  to  the  man  who 


262 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


owned  that  he  owed  all  his  goodness  to  his  wife.  It 
is  the  same  story.  I  feel  inclined  sometimes  to  think 
that  the  grandest  of  God's  gifts  to  this  fair  earth  is 
the  influence  of  good  and  noble  women." 

His  eyes  brightened,  his  face  flushed,  he  spoke  like 
a  knight  of  old.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  wonder- 
ing awe. 

"You  may  run  away  and  leave  your  home,  Hildred; 
but  that  will  be  a  commonplace  ending.  Do  that 
which  is  nobler,  higher,  better — resign  yourself,  sub- 
mit to  your  fate  and  make  the  best  of  it.  As  a  hand- 
some and  noble  woman,  use  your  influence  with  your 
husband  to  rouse  him  from  his  slough  of  despond  into 
a  higher  life." 

"How  can  I  influence  Lord  Caraven?"  she  asked. 

"You  can  do  it  by  patience  and  perseverance.  Say 
to  yourself  that  the  task  of  your  life  shall  be  to  make 
him  a  good  man.  Instead  of  running  away  from  it, 
devote  yourself  to  it.  There  is  much  said  of  woman's 
mission — let  that  be  yours;  and  surely  there  can  be 
no  higher  or  holier  mission  than  to  rouse  an  indolent 
man  to  a  sense  of  his  duty,  a  selfish  man  from  his 
self-indulgence." 

"But  how  could  I  do  it,  Raoul?"  she  asked. 

"You  could  do  it  in  some  fashion.  The  well-being 
— nay,  the  very  souls  of  men  lie  in  women's  hands. 
Here  is  a  life-long  task  for  you — a  glorious  mission, 
a  noble  work.  Give  your  life  to  your  husband — to  the 
task  of  awakening  him  to  a  sense  of  his  duties — to 
the  task  of  making  him  a  good  man  and  a  useful 
member  of  society,  a  conscientious  steward  of  great 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


263 


wealth,  a  just  land-owner;  teach  him  how  to  be  kind 
and  just  and  merciful,  help  him  to  lead  a  fair  and 
noble  life.  Could  any  woman  wish  for  a  more  glorious 
task  than  this?" 

Some  of  the  light  that  shone  on  his  face  was  re- 
flected on  hers. 

"It  would  be  a  noble  task,"  she  said,  thoughtfully. 
"Could  I  accomplish  it,  Raoul?" 

"With  perseverance  and  self-control  that  would 
amount  to  heroism  you  might,"  he  replied.  "You 
must  be  the  sculptor  who  from  a  mass  of  qualities, 
good  and  bad  intermixed,  must  try  to  produce  a  per- 
fect character." 

"But,"  she  said,  half  doubtfully,  "he  does  not  love 
me." 

"That  does  not  matter.  I  prophesy  that  he  will 
love  you  in  the  end — that  when  you  have  roused  his 
soul  from  its  sleep  it  will  turn  to  you  naturally  as 
the  sunflower  turns  to  the  sun.  Do  you  not  foresee 
it,  Hildred?"  And  an  almost  saintly  enthusiasm 
shone  on  his  face. 

"It  is  possible,  Raoul,  but — M 

"Nay,  be  brave.  You  must  not  even  think  of  the 
word  'but.'  You  must  be  enthusiastic  over  it — nothing 
can  be  done  without  enthusiasm.  You  must  give  your- 
self up  to  it  as  a  missionary  does  to  the  conversion 
of  the  heathen,  as  a  martyr  does  to  his  death.  You 
must  work  for  it,  live  for  it,  die  for  it.  Have  you  the 
courage  and  the  constancy  for  this,  Hildred?" 

The  light  was  deepening  on  her  face,  the  fire  in  her 
eyes.  The  passion  of  his  words  was  beginning  to 
tell  upon  her. 


264 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  have  both  the  courage  and  the  constancy,"  she 
replied. 

"Think  of  the  difference  in  the  ending,"  he  said. 
"Imagine  the  earl  on  his  death-bed,  tortured  by  the 
ghosts  of  those  whom  he  has  neglected,  by  the  ghosts 
of  duties  left  undone,  ready  to  curse  the  young  wife 
who,  by  flying  from  him  and  leaving  him  to  his  own 
devices,  had  hastened  his  ruin,  body  and  soul-  -pict- 
ure that.  Then  fancy  to  yourself  the  earl  on  his 
death-bed,  blessing  the  dear  wife,  the  noble  woman 
who  saved  him  from  ruin,  who  woke  his  soul  from  its 
long  sleep,  who  taught  him  how  to  live  and  how  to 
die.  Could  you  hesitate  for  one  moment  between 
these  two  pictures?" 

"No,  not  for  one  moment,  Raoul.  I  do  not  hesitate 
— I  will  not  hesitate.    I  will  do  my  life's  work." 

"That  is  well  said.  You  must  resolve  to  overcome 
all  difficulties — you  must  say  to  yourself  from  the 
beginning  that  nothing  shall  daunt  you.  You  will 
think  that  I  am  preaching  to  you;  but,  although  I 
have  been  only  a  rough  soldier,  I  have  seen  a  great 
deal  of  life,  and  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  if 
women,  instead  of  studying  medicine,  quarreling  over 
votes,  and  attending  public  meetings,  would  devote 
themselves  to  cultivating  the  best  qualities  of  their 
husbands,  the  world  would  be  better  than  it  is." 

"Reforming  their  husbands  instead  of  the  British 
Constitution,"  put  in  Hildred,  smiling.  But  he  had 
spoken  in  solemn  earnestness  and  could  not  under- 
stand her  smile. 

"I  cannot  tell  you,"  he   said,  gravely,  "how  highly 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


265 


I  think  of  you  for  having   made   me  this  promise. 
When  in  the  years  to  come  I  see   the  man  whom  I 
loved  as  a  boy  esteemed,  honored,  and  respected,  1 
shall  bless  your  name  even  as  he  will." 
A  faint  smile  parted  her  lips. 

"Raoul,"  she  said,  "you  seem  very  certain  as  to  my 
success.    You  have  no  fear  that  I  shall  fail?" 

"No.  Those  who  set  to  work  with  thorough  good 
will  seldom  fail,"  he  replied;  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  quaint,  earnest  simplicity  which  carried 
her  with  him. 

"I  do  not  say  for  one  moment  that  you  will  have  all 
plain  sailing,"  he  continued.  "Indeed,  frankly  speak- 
ing, 1  know  no  man  is  easily  turned  from  such  fatal 
habits  of  self-indulgence  as  Lord  Caraven  has  con- 
tracted— it  is  a  work  of  time  and  of  patience,  of 
almost  infinite  love.  'And  you  know  my  opinion  of 
it,"  he  went  on;  "it  is  the  grandest  of  all  missions 
that  a  woman  can  undertake.  The  apostle  of  the 
household  has  a  task  as  exalted  as  that  of  the  apostle 
of  the  heathen." 

She  pondered  his  words  in  silence,  broken  only  by 
the  western  wind,  as  it  bent  the  heads  of  the  roses, 
and  shook  the  white  acacia-blossoms  on  to  the  grass. 

It  was  Hildred  who  with  a  little  cry  broke  the 
silence  as  she  looked  into  Sir  Raours  face. 

"We  have  forgotten  one  thing,"  she  said;  "we  have 
decided  that  Ulric's  reformation  must  be  attempted, 
that  it  is  a  good  thing  to  undertake;  but  you  have  not 
told  me  how  it  is  to  be  set  about." 

"Your  own  instincts  will  tell  you  that.    Will  you 


266 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


let  me  speak  quite  freely  to  you,  Hildred,  and  promise 
me  that  you  will  not  be  offended  with  one  single  word 

that  I  shall  say?" 

She  raised  her  dark  eyes  to  his. 

"You  are  so  good,  Raoul,"  she  cried,  "that  I  am 
quite  sure  you  could  never  displease  me,  say  what  you 
might;  indeed,  I  look  upon  it  rather  as  a  luxury  than 
otherwise  to  be  scolded  by  you." 

"This  is  not  scolding.  You  ask  me  how  you  are  to 
win  your  husband.  I  will  tell  you.  We  start  from 
this  point — that  a  great  wrong  has  been  done  you,  but 
that  you  are  too  noble  to  seek  revenge." 

Her  face  cleared. 

"I  want  no  revenge,"  she  replied. 

"Good,"  said  Sir  Raoul;  "a  wrong  has  been  done 
you,  but  you  will  not  retaliate — you  are  even  willing 
to  return  good  for  evil.  The  first  thing  you  have  to 
do,  Hildred,  is  to  lay  aside  that  proud,  injured,  defiant 
expression  that  you  always  assume  when  your  hus- 
band is  near." 

'Do  I?"  she  asked  in  wonder. 

"Yes;  you  are  perhaps  bright,  animated,  charming, 
when  he  enters  the  room,  but  the  next  moment  you 
are  like  a  woman  turned  to  stone;  a  proud  chill  seems 
to  come  over  you,  to  freeze  you,  your  eyes  grow  cold, 
all  the  smiles  die  from  your  lips — you  are  as  different 
in  his  presence  as  sunlight  is  from  darkness." 

"How  can  I  help  it  when  I  know  that  he  does  not 
like  me?"  she  asked,  piteously. 

"It  is  difficult,  I  admit,  but  heroism  will  do  much. 
Now,  I  know  such  a  manner  upsets  him;  he^does  not 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


267 


like  it.  You  may  say  that  as  he  does  not  care  for  you, 
your  manner  can  make  no  difference." 

"I  should  most  certainly  have  thought  so,"  was  her 
reply. 

"But  you  are  wrong,  Hildred.  I  have  watched  him 
very  keenly,  and  I  say  that  you  are  quite  wrong. 
When  you  draw  that  cold  mask  over  your  face  you 
harden  his  heart  against  you." 

"It  is  always  hard  for  me,"  she  said. 

"Then  you  make  it  worse — I  have  seen  it.  When 
pu  are  proud  and  defiant,  he  tries  to  show  you  that 
he  does  not  care,  that  it  is  of  no  moment  to  him;  he 
says  things  to  you  that  he  would  never  say  if  you 
were  gentler.  Shall  I  give  you  an  example  of  what  ] 
mean?  The  other  morning  you  were  in  my  room; 
you  had  brought  me  some  beautiful  flowers — you  were 
like  an  angel  of  goodness  to  me — your  face  was  bright, 
your  lips  were  smiling,  your  eyes  glad.  I  was  think- 
ing to  myself  how  fair  and  graceful  you  were,  how 
above  all  other  women  you  were  calculated  to  brighten 
jl  man's  heart  and  his  home.  You  were  holding  a 
spray  of  mignonette  in  your  hand,  telling  me  how 
fragrant  it  was,  and  inventing  all  kinds  of  pretty 
fancies  in  connection  with  it.  Ulric  came  in — do  you 
remember?" 

She  bent  her  head,  and  her  face  flushed. 

"I  do  remember,"  she  assented,  shyly. 

"He  saw  the  mignonette  in  your  hands,  and  bent 
forward  to  look  at  it.  'It  is  the  sweetest  flower  that 
blows,'  he  said.  The  cold  mask  in  a  moment  fell 
over  your  face,  and  I  saw  you —mind,  I  saw  you — 


268 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


throw  the  pretty  spray  away  as  though  it  had  stung 
you." 

She  clasped  her  white  hands  with  a  pretty  air  of 
penitence. 

"It  was  very  wrong,  Raoul,  I  know;  I  have  no 
excuse. " 

"Then  Ulric,  in  his  turn,  said  something  about  la- 
dies' airs  which  you  did  not  like.  You  swept  out  of 
the  room,  and  the  next  time  you  met  neither  of  you 
spoke. " 

"How  closely  you  have  observed  me!"  she  said, 
with  a  hot  flush  on  her  face. 

"Because  I  love  both  you  and  Ulric  so  dearly,"  he 
replied.  "Now  for  my  illustration,  Hildred.  Suppose 
that,  instead  of  throwing  away  the  flower  that  he 
liked,  you  had  looked  up  into  his  face  and  had  said 
something  gay,  or  graceful,  or  pretty;  he  would  have 
returned  a  smiling  answer,  and  all  would  have  been 
well;  and  the  next  time  you  met  he  would  have  been 
even  more  smiling  and  you  more  kind." 

"But,  Raoul,"  she  asked,  "would  that  have  been 
sincere?  I  do  not  feel  kind  or  pleased — is  it  sincere 
to  affect  to  be  so?" 

"You  ought  to  feel  kind — he  is  your  own  husband. 
All  that  I  can  say  is  that  you  should  try  to  feel  so, 
whether  you  do  or  not.  Now  begin  this  very  day; 
throw  off  that  stony  mask  forever.  How  is  he  to 
know  what  a  tender  soul  is  hidden  by  that  freezing 
face  unless  you  give  him  some  chance  of  finding  it 
out?  Do  not  say  to  yourself  that  you  will  begin 
to-morrow  or  the  day  after — begin  at  once.  Say  to 
yourself  that  you  will  win  him." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


269' 


"Is  it  not  unwomanly  to  seek  for  love  which  is  not 
offered  to  you,  Raoul?" 

"It  might  be  in  a  girl,  it  is  not  in  a  wife.  I  think 
a  wife  should  aspire  to  win  her  husband,  to  mrke  him 
love  her  with  all  his  heart." 

"Lord  Caraven  will  never  love  me,"  she  said.  "I 
do  not  think  that  he  has  any  heart  to  give;  it  is  all 
wasted — he  has  had  a  hundred  loves." 

"But  not  one  real  one,  Hildred.  If  you  win  his 
heart,  take  my  word  for  it,  you  will  be  his  first  love. 
vVe  will  take  our  stand  on  something  higher.  To  win 
love  is  pleasant,  but  you  shall  not  devote  your  life  to 
that.  You  shall  devote  yourself  to  the  rousing  of  a 
soul,  naturally  noble,  but  long  buried  in  self-indul- 
gence and  folly;  you  shall  spend  your  life  in  making 
the  Earl  of  Caraven  worthy  of  the  name  he  bears. 
You  have  promised." 

"I  promise  again,"  she  replied. 

"Ah,  child,  you  know  but  little,  after  all,  of  what 
you  will  have  to  encounter!  But  a  true  soldier  never 
deserts  his  post,  he  dies  doing  his  duty.  You  will 
have  many  sore  humiliations,  many  bitter  hours  of 
annoyance,  many  a  contest  with  your  own  pride,  but 
you  will  win  in  the  end —  of  that  I  am  sure — and  we 
shall  begin  our  new  life,  Hildred,  to-day." 

She  had  clasped  her  hands  together,  and  she  looked 
it  him  with  piteous  entreaty. 

'1  wish,"  she  said,  "that  you  would  tell  me  what 
to  do  first.  I  could  go  on  if  I  only  knew  how  to 
begin. " 

He  smiled  gravely. 


270 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Perhaps  you  would  think  my  first  lesson  a  vety 
hard  one,"  he  said. 

"I  will  do  what  you  tell  me,  Raoul,  let  it  be  what 
it  may." 

"Then  I  shall  suggest  this.  You  wish  to  make  a 
little  advance — nothing  very  marked,  but  some  trifling 
act  of  civility  that  will  make  amends,  and  show  your 
desire  to  be  what  children  call  'friends.'" 

He  did  not  know  what  an  effort  it  cost  her  to  say 
"Yes,"  but  she  did  say  it,  and  she  meant  it. 

"Then  this  is  what  I  suggest.  It  was  about  a  spray 
of  mignonette  that  you  displeased  Ulric  last.  Gather 
some  beautiful  sprays  of  it,  the  finest  you  can  obtain, 
and  take  them  to  him.  Say  quite  carelessly,  'You 
admire  mignonette,  so  I  have  brought  you  this. '" 

"And  suppose,"  said  Hildred,  "that  he  repays  me 
in  kind  by  throwing  it  away?" 

"Never  mind — courage  and  patience  must  be  your 
watchwords.  Ah,  Hildred,  after  all,  our  likes  and 
dislikes  should  have  little  to  do  with  our  duties!  You 
will  not  be  alone  in  your  struggles;  I  shall  watch  over 
you,  I  shall  help  you,  and  sympathy  is  sweet." 

She  caught  his  hand  and  kissed  it.  He  saw  her 
face  clear  and  a  bright,  earnest  light  shine  in  her  eyes. 

"Do  you  know,  Raoul,"  she  said,  "that  I  feel  hap- 
pier even  now  before  I  have  begun?  I  did  not  like 
the  thought  of  running  away;  there  was  something 
very  cowardly  about  it.  Now  I  shall  never  think  of 
it  again.  I  shall  endure  to  the  very  end.  I  am  hap- 
pier even  for  the  resolve.  I  have  something  to  live 
for— 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


271 


"'Something  to  live  for,  life  to  begin; 
Something  to  fight  for,  something  to  win.' 

I  must  be  more  patient  than  patience  itself.  I  must 
be  humble;  all  vanity  and  self-esteem  must  leave  me 
before  I  begin  the  task  that  you  have  set  me.  I  must 
rise  from  the  commonplace  to  the  heroic,  and  say  to 
myself,  it  is  for  the  good  of  a  human  soul." 

"Hildred,  you  do  not  know  how  often  I  have  longed 
to  speak  to  you  about  this,"  he  remarked — "to  help 
you,  to  advise  you;  and  now  that  you  have  given  me 
the  privilege  I  shall  not  be  slow  to  avail  myself  of 
it. M 

It  is  wonderful  how  the  expression  of  the  beautiful 
face  had  changed  during  that  quiet  interview.  She 
arose  with  the  gayest,  sweetest  laugh  he  had  ever 
heard  from  her  lips. 

"I  am  a  Woman  with  a  Mission,"  she  said,  "and  I 
shall  always  think  of  myself  with  capital  letters. 
Raoul,  I  cannot  be  grateful  enough  to  you.  When 
you  first  entered  the  house  I  felt  as  though  heaven 
had  sent  me  a  friend.  If  happiness  comes  to  me 
through  following  your  counsel,  how  shall  I  thank 
you?" 

"I  shall  need  no  thanks,  Hildred,"  he  replied.  "You 
are  and  have  been,  ever  since  I  first  saw  you,  the  dear- 
est object  on  earth  to  me.  You  are  my  dear  sister, 
Ulric's  wife.  I  have  loved  Ulric  all  my  life — I  could 
not  help  loving  you." 

"Now  I  am  going  to  practice  my  first  lesson  in 
humility,"  she  said,  "Raoul,  I  wish  that  you  could 
be  in  the  room  when  I  give  my  husband  the  mignon- 
ette.^ 


272 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"That  would  spoil  it  all,"  he  replied,  laughingly; 
'and  he  is  so  quick,  so  keen,  he  would  find  out  at 
once  that  the  little  scene  had  been  arranged  between 
us." 

"Then  I  must  venture  all  by  myself,  I  suppose/' 
said  Lady  Caraven.  MI  feel  as  shy  as — I  cannot  tell 
you  what.  Raoul,  if  he  is  cross  or  contemptuous  I 
shall  lose  heart." 

"No,  you  will  not.  Having  once  put  your  hand  to 
the  plow,  you  will  not  turn  back.  When  your  hope 
or  your  courage  fails  you,  say  to  yourself,  <I  have  to 
win  my  husband's  heart' — that  will  give  you  all  your 
courage  again." 

She  walked  slowly  down  the  path,  Sir  Raoul  by  her 
side.    She  looked  round  on  the  four  high  ivied  walls. 

"I  have  always  loved  this  little  pleasaunce,"  she 
said.  "I  shall  love  it  better  than  ever  now.  It  will 
seem  almost  like  a  church  to  me." 

Why  like  a  church?"  he  asked,  with  some  amuse- 
ment. 

"Because  one  of  the  best  sermons  I  have  ever  heard 
preached  has  been  preached  to  me  here,"  she  replied. 
"I  have  learned  a  lesson  here.  I  shall  never  see  these 
high  ivied  walls  or  touch  a  crimson  carnation  without 
thinking  of  you,  Raoul,  and  all  that  you  have  said." 

Then  he  watched  her  as  she  went  from  one  bed  of 
mignonette  to  another,  looking  eagerly  for  the  choicest 
sprays,  holding  them  up  to  him  with  wistful,  eager 
face  and  sweet,  pathetic  eyes. 

"Will  this  do,  and  this?"  she  asked,  as  simply  as 
a  child.    "Oh,  Raoul,  I  hope  he  will  not  be  angry — 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


273 


[  hope  he  will  be  pleased!  I  shall  tell  you  how  I  get 
on.    I  am  nervous  about  it." 

In  another  minute  the  beautiful  face  had  disap- 
peared, and  Sir  Raoul  was  left  in  the  pleasaunce  alone. 

"A  man  might  lay  down  his  life  for  such  a  woman 
as  that,"  he  said,  with  what  was  almost  a  sigh. 

*****  *  * 

Lord  Caraven  stood  in  the  billiard-room  at  Ravens- 
mere;  he  had  been  playing  with  one  of  his  friends, 
who,  having  received  a  telegram,  had  gone  to  answer 
it.  He  stood  alone,  leaning  carelessly  against  the 
open  veranda,  something  more  than  his  usual  indiffer- 
ence darkening  his  face;  he  never  liked  interruption 
during  a  game. 

"A  most  unpropitious  moment,"  thought  the  young 
countess  as  she  caught  sight  of  him;  but  having  given 
her  word  tg  Sir  Raoul,  she  would  have  marched  up  to 
the  mouth  of  a  loaded  cannon  rather  than  have  broken 
it. 

Looking  up,  the  earl  could  not  but  confess  that  he 
had  seldom  seen  a  lovelier  picture  than  his  young  wife 
at  that  moment  presented,  with  a  flush  on  her  face, 
and  her  hands  filled  with  sprays  of  fragrant  mignonette. 

She  would  not  reveal  her  hesitation  but  went 
straight  to  him,  smiling  so  that  he  little  guessed  how 
her  heart  beat.  He  raised  his  eyebrows  as  she  drew 
nearer  to  him.  What  was  going  to  happen?  Before 
he  had  time  to  speak  his  face  was  buried  in  a  soft, 
dewy  mass  of  fragrant  mignonette. 

"There!"    said   a  laughing  voice."    "You  said  this 


274 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


morning  that  this  was  your  favorite  flower.  I  have 
been  looking  for  the  most  fragrant  sprays  of  it  that  I 

could  find." 

He  could  not  believe  the  evidence  of  his  senses;  it 
was  incredible  that  the  laughing  voice  belonged  to  his 
cold,  proud  wife — the  girl  who  had  swept  imperiously 
from  the  room  when  he  saw  her  last.  He  looked  at  hei 
in  amazement.  She  would  not  see  the  surprise  on  his 
face  or  make  the  least  difference  because  of  it. 

"You  have  the  very  pick  of  the  garden  here,"  she 
said;  "every  spray  has  its  own  special  beauty." 

He  roused  himself  and  tried  to  recover  from  the 
wondering  stupor  that  had  overcome  him. 

"You  really  remembered,  Hildred,  what  I  said?"  he 
began,  with  a  pleased  look. 

"Yes,  and  I  think  you  showed  good  taste,"  slie 
replied.  "I  know  no  flower  lovelier  than  fragrant 
mignonette." 

"And  you  reallv  think  that  I  have  good  taste?"  he 
said. 

"Yes.  Why  should  that  surprise  you?"  she  asked, 
with  a  smile. 

His  face  flushed  and  his  eyes  drooped. 

"I  fancied,"  he  said,  hurriedly,  "that  you  considered 
me  altogether  graceless  and  without  one  redeeming 
quality. " 

"Indeed  I  do  not,'  she  replied,  earnestly,  thinking 
of  all  that  Sir  Raoul  had  said  in  his  favor.  "That  is 
a  great  mistake  of  yours." 

"There  is  one  thing,"  he  confessed,  in  a  low  voice, 
*l  have  shown  the  worst  side  of  my  character  to  you/ 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


275 


She  felt  frightened  and  inclined  to  run  away. 

"You  will  not  lose  my  flowers  or  throw  them  away?" 
she  said.  And  then  she  was  startled,  for  his  hand- 
some, indolent  eyes  were  looking  into  hers  with  a 
new  expression  in  their  blue  depths. 

"Am  I  so  wanting  in  chivalry  and  gallantry, Hildred?" 
he  asked  her.  "I  believe  this  is  the  first  thing  that 
you  have  ever  given  me  of  your  own  free  will,  is  it 
not?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  quietly;  "it  is  not." 

"Ah,  pardon  me,"  he  said,  with  a  quick  change  of 
face  and  voice;  "you  gave  me  your  fortune!" 

There  was  hot  rebellion  for  one  moment — hot,  bitter 
rebellion.  Then  she  remembered  Sir  Raoul's  words. 
It  was  for  her  husband's  good.  She  trampled  down 
the  hot  impulse  of  angry  pride — she  stilled  the  bitter 
anger  and  contempt.  Her  victory  over  herself  was  so 
great  that  she  was  even  surprised  at  it.  She  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm. 

"Nay,  Lord  Caraven,"  she  said  gently,  "you  are  quite 
wrong.  I  was  not  thinking  of  money.  Gold  is  dross 
— I  despise  it — I  could  almost  hate  it  for  the  mischief 
it  makes.  I  was  thinking  of  something  very  different 
from  money — something  that  money  could  not  buy." 

He  was  looking  at  her  with  keen  curiosity. 

"Something  that  money  could  not  buy,"  he  repeated. 
"I  declare  that  you  puzzle  me.  I  thought  gold  was 
omnipotent. " 

"I  do  not  think  so.  I  do  not  like  it.  Omnipo- 
tent? Why,  Lord  Caraven,  all  the  wealth  of  the 
world  could  not  buy  happiness  or  love." 


276 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"No,"  he  said,  quietly,  "it  could  not;  yet,  Hildred, 
money  has  done  something  for  me. " 

"I  do  not  intend  to  depreciate  it,"  she  remarked; 
"but  it  is  not  omnipotent;  and  there  are  many  things 
in  this  world  of  far  higher  value  than  money." 

"It  is  true,"  he  said,  thoughtfully. 

She  laughed  again,  and,  if  he  had  known  her  better, 
he  would  have  detected  tears  in  the  sound  of  that 
laugh. 

''We  are  positively  agreeing,  Lord  Caraven,"  she 
said. 

He  was  looking  at  her  with  intense  curiosity  in  his 
face. 

"Hildred,  what  have  you  given  me  that  money 
could  not  buy?" 

The  dark  eyes  gleamed  softly. 

"I  will  not  tell  you,  Lord  Caraven,"  she  answered. 

"But  I  must  know.  You  have  excited  my  curiosity 
— you  must  gratify  it.  You  have  enumerated  three 
things  that  money  cannot  buy — happiness,  virtue,  love. 
It  was  none  of  these.    Then  what  could  it  be?" 

"I  must  go,  Lord  Caraven,"  she  said,  her  face  grow- 
ing hot  and  her  heart  beating  quickly.  "If  you  weigh 
every  word  that  I  say,  I  shall  have  to  be  very  care- 
ful." 

"Hildred,  tell  me  what  you  mean?"  he  requested. 
"What  have  you  given  me?" 

"I  will  tell  you,"  she  replied,  laughingly,  "when  you 
have  counted  all  those  tiny  leaves  on  the  mignonette." 

She  turned  to  go,  but  he  put  out  his  hand  to  detain 
her.  She  eluded  him,  and,  with  a  light  laugh,  disap- 
peared, leaving  him  by  the  veranda  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


*IT   IS  A   LONG    STRUGGLE,  THIS   BATTLE    FOR  A  MAN*S 
HEART" 

"¥ou  look  astonished  at  something,"  said  Caraven's 
friend  to  him  when  he  returned  to  resume  their  game 
at  billiards. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  earl — "I  have  been  enjoying  a 
novel  sensation." 

"What  is  that?"  asked  his  friend. 

"I  am  not  quite  sure,"  was  the  laughing  reply.  "I 
should  not  like  to  be  too  certain  of  it — but  I  believe 
that  I  have  been  flirting  with  my  own  wife." 

The  young  countess  had  hastened  smilingly  away 
after  presenting  him  with  the  sprays  of  mignonette. 
If  that  was  the  result  of  a  few  kind  words,  she  said  to 
herself  that  she  would  often  say  them.  Sir  Raoul  saw 
her  smiling  and  blushing,  with  a  glad  light  in  her 
eyes. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what  success,  Hildred?" 

"The  best  in  the  world,"  she  replied;  and  the 
pleasure  was  increased  at  dinner  time  when  she  saw 
that  Lord  Caraven  wore  some  of  the  mignonette  in 
his  button-hole. 

She  tried  to  keep  strict  watch  and  guard  over  her- 
self.  When  she  found  herself  relapsing  into  her  old 

m 


278 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


hauteur  and  proud  silence,  she  roused  herself.  She 
who  had  always  passed  by  her  husband  with  lofty 
unconcern,  who  had  never  deigned  to  make  the  least 
reply  to  any  remark  of  his,  now  studied  little  speeches 
that  she  could  make  to  him;  she  asked  his  opinion; 
she  smiled  at  his  jests.  People  looked  at  each  other 
in  quiet  wonder.  Had  they,  after  all,  made  any  mis- 
take about  their  host  and  hostess? 

Lord  Caraven  was  fond  of  music;  he  had  a  rich, 
ringing  tenor  voice,  which,  as  a  rule,  he  was*  too 
indolent  to  use.  He  would  troll  out  a  verse  of  a  love 
ditty,  or  the  chorus  of  a  drinking  song,  in  a  fashion 
that  made  one  long  to  hear  the  rest.  In  the  evening 
Sir  Raoul  asked  him  to  sing. 

"It  is  too  much  trouble,"  said  the  handsome  earl. 
"Why  should  I  exert  myself  to  sing  when  other  people 
can  do  it  so  much  better  for  me?" 

"That  is  an  idle  excuse,"  returned  Sir  Raoul.  "Lady 
Caraven,  persuade  your  husband  to  sing — he  has  a 
voice  almost  as  rich  and  clear  as  Mario's,  but  he  will 
never  use  it. " 

She  came  over  to  him.  He  looked  at  his  beautiful 
young  wife  in  all  the  shimmer  of  satin  and  gleam  of 
pearls;  he  gazed  earnestly  into  the  beautiful  face. 

"Do  sing,  Lord  Caraven,"  she  said.  "You  owe  me 
something  for  my  flowers  this  morning." 

"Do  you  really  wish  me  to  sing,  Hildred?"  he  asked. 

"I  do,  indeed,"  she  answered. 

"Then  you  shall  be  obeyed.  Will  you  have  an  old- 
fashioned  English  ballad,  or  a  Scotch  one?  No  French 
or  Italian  for  me.    I  like  good,  hearty  words." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


279 


He  sang  one  of  the  prettiest  of  English  songs — 
'Good-bye,  sweetheart,  good-bye" — sang  it  with  such 
sweetness,  such  pathos,  that  his  listeners  were  almost 
moved  to  tears. 

"I  could  not  leave  thee,  though  I  said, 
'Good-bye,  sweetheart,  good-bye/" 

As  the  last  words  passed'  his  lips,  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  his  wife's  face.  What  did  it  express?  He 
stopped  suddenly.  Sir  Raoul  rallied  him,  begging 
him  to  finish. 

"Let  us  have  the  last  verse,"  said  he;  but  the  earl 
turned  quickly  to  him. 

"Not  another  word,  Raoul,"  he  answered;  "I  can 
sing  no  more.     I  have  seen  a  ghost." 

"A  ghost?"  cried  Sir  Raoul.    "The  ghost  of  what?" 

"1  am  not  quite  sure,"  replied  the  earl;  "but  I 
think  it  was  the  ghost  of  what  might  have  been." 

And  Sir  Raoul  said  no  r.iore. 

Guests  and  friends  began  to  ask  themselves  could 
they  be  mistaken — could  they  have  misunderstood? 
The  cold,  sullen  gloom  was  leaving  the  young  wife's 
face;  the  husband  ceased  his  covert  sneers  and  hard 
words;  they,  too,  exchanged  laughing  jests  and  smiles. 
Yet  Hildred  saw,  and  saw  plainly,  that  it  was  all  her 
own  doing.  If  ever  by  chance  she  for  one  moment 
forgot  her  role,  he  forgot  his;  if  by  any  chance  she 
relapsed  into  her  cold,  frozen  manner,  he  changed  as 
though  by  magic.  She  saw  plainly  enough  now  that 
all  depended  on  herself. 

She  studied  how  to  please  him.  For  instance,  there 
was  nothing  that  pleased   Lord   Caraven  more  than 


280 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


finding  his  newspaper  cut  and  aired  for  him  to  read 
in  the  morning;  he  disliked  having  to  cut  it  himself 
or  to  air  it.  She  had  always  been  loftily  indifferent, 
thinking  to  herself  that  his  indolence  must  not  even 
be  encouraged.  Now  she  thought  differently;  the 
newspaper  was  cut  and  aired  and  laid  ready  for  him, 

Happening  to  come  downstairs  rather  earlier  than 
usual  one  morning,  he  found  her  engaged  upon  her 
self-imposed  task.  He  looked  at  her  with  a  bright, 
pleased  smile. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  "is  it  to  you  that  I  am. indebted 
every  morning  for  my  cut  newspaper?" 

"It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  get  it  ready  for  you,"  she 
replied,  with  a  charming  smile. 

He  was  deeply  touched  by  this  simple  act  of  atten- 
tion. After  all,  there  was  something  very  amiable 
about  the  money-lender's  daughter. 

From  that  day  Lord  Caraven  never  opened  his 
newspaper  without  a  kindly  thought  of  his  wife. 

It  was  perhaps  but  a  small  beginning,  this  chang- 
ing of  sneers  into  smiles,  but  it  was  something  gained. 
Both  husband  and  wife  were  alike  in  one  respect — 
they  had  a  keen  sense  of  humor.  The  earl  had  more 
of  this  sense  than  his  young  wife,  and  it  was  a  wonder- 
ful  bond  of  union  between  them.  There  were  times 
when  there  was  no  need  of  words,  when  a  glance  was 
sufficient,  and  Lord  Caraven  began  to  look  into  the 
beautiful  dark  eyes  for  the  secret  sympathy  that  no 
one  else  gave  him.  He  began  to  do  what  he  had 
never  even  thought  of  before — converse  with  her.  If 
time  hung  heavily  upon  his  hands,  Ji  he  tired  of  bill- 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


28l 


iards,  or  there  was  no  one  at  hand  to  play  with  him, 
it  came  to  him  with  a  sense  of  relief  that  he  could  go 
and  chat  with  Hildred. 

She  grew  accustomed  t*o  see  him  looking  at  her 
from  the  door  of  her  room,  with  an  air  of  apology  on 
his  handsome  face.  "May  I  come  in  for  half  an  hour, 
Hildred?"  he  would  ask;  and  then  she  would  put 
away  her  books,  or  her  easel,  or  whatever  she  was 
engaged  upon,  and  devote  herself  to  him.  If  he  were 
told  some  merry  story,  her  quick,  laughing  sympathy 
was  the  first  thing  he  sought.  If  he  heard  any  clever 
repartee  or  play  upon  words  the  first  thing  he  thought 
of  was  to  repeat  it  to  Hildred. 

All  this  was  so  much  gained — yet  it  seemed  to  her 
very  little.  Sir  Raoul  asked  her  one  morning  how  she 
was  progressing.  She  turned  her  beautiful  face  to 
him,  and  it  seemed  to  him  there  was  a  tired  look 
upon  it. 

"I  can  hardly  tell  you,  Raoul,"  she  replied.  "I 
have  done  my  best,  I  have  thought  of  him  and  studied 
him,  and  the  utmost  that  I  can  say  is  that  he  has 
learned  to  associate  me  with  all  his  amusements.  That 
is  not  a  very  high  or  elevated  state  of  things,  is  it?" 

"I  term  it  beginning  at  the  very  foundation,  Hil- 
dred," he  answered,  looking  at  the  wistful  face.  "If 
he  commences  by  associating  you  with  his  amuse- 
ments, he  will  end  by  making  you  share  in  all  that 
interests  him." 

The  dark  eyes  brightened. 

"Do  you  think  so?  Then  all  my  trouble  has  not 
been  in  vain?" 


282 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  think,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  "that  you  have  made 
wonderful  progress.  All  the  coldness  and  constraint, 
the  terrible  distance  between  you  that  made  everyone 
uncomfortable,  has  disappeared.  Your  husband's  face 
brightens  now  when  you  enter  a  room;  when  you  leave 
it,  he  watches  you  regretfully.  You  have  gained 
much,  Hildred.  It  is  a  long  struggle,  this  battle 
for  a  man's  heart,  but  you  will  win  in  the  end." 

"Still,"  she  remarked,  half  wearily,  "I  am  a  long 
way  from  the  grand  purpose  I  had  in  view.  There  is 
nothing  heroic  in  being  able  to  make  your  husband 
laugh,  in  sympathizing  with  a  comical  story,  in  help- 
ing to  amuse  him  so  that  the  time  may  pass  more 
quickly." 

"Yes,"  opposed  Sir  Raoul,  "there  is  something 
heroic  in  it.  It  is  the  first  step.  When  you  have 
thoroughly  identified  yourself  with  his  amusements 
you  can  begin  to  influence  Ulric  for  better  things. 
Try  to  rouse  him  from  his  indolence,  try  to  make 
him  care  less  for  amusements  and  take  greater  inter- 
est in  his  duties.  Rouse  his  soul  from  its  long  sleep, 
and  the  awakening  will  soon  follow.  I  am  quite  cer- 
tain that  his  faults  are  rather  those  of  training  and 
education  than  nature." 

It  was  easy  to  counsel  all  this,  but  how  was  it  to 
be  done?  Perhaps  if  she  began  what  he  would  call 
"preaching"  to  him,  Ulric  would  grow  angry,  and 
then  hot,  angry,  or  bitter  words  might  follow.  Her 
undertaking  would  require  infinite  grace,  infinite  tact 
—  and  that,  she  said  to  herself,  it  should  have. 

The   evening  of  that   same   day  was  a  lovely  one, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


283 


fine,  warm,  and  brilliant;  the  sun  seemed  unwilling  to 
set,  the  flowers  unwilling  to  sleep.  It  was  so  warm 
and  beautiful  that  the  whole  party  of  guests  declared 
it  was  almost  treason  to  remain  indoors. 

Hildred  looked  up  with  laughing  eyes  at  her  hus- 
band. 

"You  are  going  to  sentimentalize  among  the  flowers, 
Lord  Caraven,  I  suppose.  I  hope  you  will  choose  a 
pleasant  companion." 

It  was  not  in  human  nature — at  least  in  man's 
nature — to  resist  the  fire  of  those  dark  eyes. 

"Will  you  accompany  me?"  he  replied.  "I  shall  be 
sure  then  of  a  nice  companion." 

"Is  there  anyone  whom  you  would  like  better?"  she 
asked,  coquettishly. 

"No — on  my  honor  there  is  not,"  said  the  earl,  has- 
tily; "you  are  the  most  amusing  companion  I  can  find 
here. " 

"I  am  grateful  for  small  favors,"  returned  Hildred. 

So  they  walked  together  through  the  long  winding 
paths.  He  did  not  offer  her  his  arm,  nor  did  she  seem 
to  notice  it.  They  laughed,  talked,  jested,  but  between 
them  there  was  none  of  the  familiarity  which  should 
be  between  husband  and  wife.  Once  her  dress  caught 
among  the  tangled  branches  of  a  rose-tree  that  had 
overgrown  its  limits,  and  the  earl  stooped  down  to 
remove  it.  His  wife  drew  herself  quickly  away — so 
quickly  that  the  jewels  she  wore  seemed  to  quiver  in 
the  light.    Her  face  flushed  hotly. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  briefly. 

The  earl  looked  at  her  in  comic  surprise. 


284 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLpOM 


"What  are  you  blushing  for,  Hildred?  What  is  the 
matter?    What  have  I  done?" 

"Nothing,"  she  replied  briefly;  "these  narrow  paths 
are  so  very  awkward." 

"Then  we  will  go  into  the  broader  ones.  But,  Hil- 
dred, pray  do  not  waste  all  that  lovely  color  in  a  blush 
for  nothing;  I  know  people  who  would  give  a  small 
fortune  for  such  a  bloom." 

"They  are  welcome  to  it,"  said  the  young  countess. 

"I  do  not  say  so.  Upon  my  word  it  is  a  revelation. 
I  did  not  think  that  in  these  degenerate  days  anyone 
could  blush  after  that  fashion." 

She  was  half  inclined  to  be  angry;  the  remembrance 
of  Sir  RaouPs  words  alone  checked  her.  She  must  be 
more  patient,  she  told  herself;  yet  more  rigidly  she 
must  control  her  own  nature,  with  its  hot  rebellions, 
its  sudden  risings  of  anger.  The  flush  faded  from  her 
face — she  turned  to  him  with  a  smile. 

"I  ought  to  be  gratified  that  you  value  my  blushes 
so  highly,"  she  said;  and  she  saw  that  he  was  pleased. 

More  than  one  strange  thought  came  to  her  as  she 
walked  by  his  side.  How  strange  it  was,  this  law  of 
Providence  and  of  nature,  that  men  should  be  superior, 
that  women  must  watch  their  faces,  humor  their  tem- 
pers, pave  the  way,  as  it  were,  for  them  through  life, 
yet  always  be  accounted  as  inferior.  Why  was  it. 
she  wondered,  that  the  faults  of  men — even  of  boys — 
were  generally  excused  on  account  of  their  sex?  "Men 
will  be  men,  boys  will  be  boys,"  seemed  to  be  a  uni- 
versal argument.  Why  should  she  walk  by  this  man's 
side,  studying  his  humors  and  fancies,  watching  his 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


285 


face  to  see  that  it  did  not  cloud  over,  using  her  bright 
wit  and  brilliant  fancy  to  amuse  him?  Only  because 
she  was  a  woman.  She  was  his  wife;  therefore  she 
had  to  win  him. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about  so  intently,  Hildred?:: 
asked  Lord  Caraven. 

She  looked  up  at  him  brightly. 

"I  will  tell  you.  I  was  thinking  about  you.  You 
have  a  keen  eye  for  all  natural  beauties,  Lord  Cara- 
ven— a  mind  that,  if  it  were  not  obscured  by  indo- 
lence, would  be  artistic." 

He  glanced  at  her  again,  something  of  amusement 
struggling  with  his  impatience. 

"Obscured  by  indolence,  Hildred?  That  is  a  strong 
expression. " 

"It  is  strong,  but  it  is  true.  See  how  you  admire 
this  sunset  scene;  there  is  not  one  of  its  beautiful 
details  which  escapes  you — the  color  of  the  skies,  the 
hue  of  the  flowers,  the  glimmering  sunlight  as  it  falls 
over  the  trees.  I  will  tell  you  of  a  sight  more  beau- 
tiful still — that  is  sunrise.  Why  do  you  never  see 
that?" 

'See  the  sun  rise,"  he  cried.  "I  have  not  even 
thought  of  such  a  thing  for  years." 

"Suppose  you  do  so  now?"  she  suggested.  "I 
always  think  the  fairest,  freshest,  sweetest  hours  of 
the  day  are  the  early  morning  hours;  you  who  seldom 
rise  until  noon  can  hardly  imagine  what  they  are  like." 

He  looked  half  doubtfully  at  her,  as  though  wonder- 
ing whether  she  was  attempting  to  lecture  him;  but 
she  met  his  look  with  clear,  laughing  eyes. 


286 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  challenge  you,"  she  said,  "to  rise  every  morning 
this  week — not  to  see  the  day  dawn,  but  to  enjoy  the 
firsrtreshness  of  the  lovely  morning  air." 

"I  accept  the  challenge,"  he  replied;  "you  shall 
see  that  I  am  capable  of  making  an  effort  when  I 
choose. " 

She  thought  that  was  enough  for  once,  and  she 
waited  with  some  curiosity  to  see  the  results  of  her 
endeavor.  He  was  down  the  next  morning  when  she 
took  her  seat  at  the  breakfast-table,  looking  better 
than  she  had  seen  him  look  for  some  time. 

"I  have  made  an  effort,"  he  said. 

"Did  it  cost  you  much?"  asked  the  young  countess. 

"I  felt  as  though  night  were  turned  into  day,  or 
something  of  that  kind.  Seriously,  Hildred,  I  thank 
you  for  calling  my  attention  to  the  fact  that  I  waste 
hours  every  morning  in  perfect  idleness.  I  nuan  to 
cure  myself  of  the  habit;  such  waste  shall  not  occur 
again." 

It  was  another  victory,  but  a  small  one.  Yet,  as 
she  said  to  herself,  all  these,  small  as  they  were, 
would  gradually  amount  to  one  worth  winning  in 
time. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


"lord  caraven  was  roused  at  last" 

An  old  man  with  hair  as  white  as  snow,  a  worn, 
troubled  face,  and  hands  that  trembled  as  they  rested 
on  his  stick,  was  standing  before  Lady  Caraven,  bow- 
ing as  though  she  were  the  arbitress  of  his  destiny. 
,  "I  am  Farmer  Moore,  my  lady — Farmer  Moore — and 
I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

Lady  Caraven  stood  quite  still.  He  was  a  man  so 
old  and  venerable  that  his  appearance  alone  com- 
manded respect. 

"Farmer  Moore,"  she  repeated,  "and  you  want  me? 
I  am  very  pleased  to  see  you.  Will  you  come  into 
the  house?" 

"No,  my  lady;  I  cannot  enter  your  doors  with  my 
present  trouble  on  me.  Your  husband  is  a  young 
man,  but  he  is  driving  my  white  head  to  the  grave." 

"My  husband!"  exclaimed  Lady  Caraven.  "You 
must  not  speak  ill  of  him." 

"He  must  not  act  ill  to  me,"  he  said;  "an  old  man, 
my  lady — so  old  that  my  grandsons  say  a  good  wish 
from  me  is  a  blessing,  an  evil  wish  a  curse — an  old, 
old  man,  my  lady." 

She  saw  how  he  trembled,  and  sweetest  compassion 
filled  her  heart,  What  could  he  want  from  her,  this 
old  man? 

887 


288 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  have  stood  here,  my  lady,"  he  said,  "every  day 
for  ten  long  days,  waiting  to  see  you.  They  told  me 
that  you  were  young  and  bonny — that  you  had  kind 
eyes  and  a  kind  heart.  Your  husband  wants  to  drive 
me  to  death,  my  lady — will  you  save  me?" 

She  thought  he  must  be  raving,  but  his  manner  was 
calm  and  collected.  They  were  standing  together  just 
at  the  end  of  the  coppice,  and  Lady  Caraven  pointed 
to  one  of  the  fallen  trees. 

"Sit  down  there,  Farmer  Moore,"  she  said,  "if  you 
will  not  come  into  the  house — and  tell  me  what  is 
wrong. " 

"I  am  an  old  man,  my  lady;  I  have  lived  many 
years,  and  I  have  never  seen  an  injustice  prosper  yet. 
The  earl  is  going  to  do  an  injustice  to  me  and  mine. 
You  will  keep  him  from  it?" 

"I  will,  if  I  can,"  she  replied.    "What  is  it?" 

"The  Moores  have  lived  at  Bromhill  Farm,  my 
lady,  more  years  than  I  could  count.  I  have  heard  it 
read  how,  centuries  ago,  when  the  Lords  of  Caraven 
went  to  war,  the  Moores  followed  them.  They  have 
always  been  tenants  on  the  Ravensmere  estates.  The 
farm,  my  lady — Bromhill  Farm — is  to  let  on  lease; 
when  one  lease  expires,  another  is  signed.  My  lady, 
when  I  was  but  a  boy  my  father  signed  a  lease  for 
seventy  years  and  the  seventy  years  will  be  at  an  end 
next  month.  I  have  sons  and  grandsons  waiting  to 
succeed  me,  and  the  house  is  my  home  — I  love  it. 
My  father  lived  and  died  there;  my  sons  were  born 
there.  The  old  homestead  is  part  of  my  life —  of  my 
soul,  my  lady;  standing  outside  of  it,  I  seerr  to  have 
no  life/1 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


289 


MI  understand,"  she  said,  gently. 

"There  has  never  been  any  difficulty  about  the 
renewal  of  the  leases,  my  lady.  The  Lords  of  Cara- 
ven  knew  how  to  value  good  tenants,  and  when  a  fresh 
lease  was  signed,  the  earl  would  say:  'Moore,  youwili 
take  a  glass  of  wine  with  me/  and  the  best  wine  in 
his  lorbship's  cellar  would  be  put  before  him.  There 
might  have  been  tenants  who  would  have  offered  more 
money,  but  the  Lords  of  Ravensmere  would  have 
laughed  at  that.  We  were  their  humble  friends  and 
true  servitors,  my  lady.  You  do  not  meet  with  such 
every  day." 

-"I  understand,"  she  repeated,  not  knowing  what 
to  say, 

"Now,  my  lady,  the  seventy-years  lease,  signed 
when  I  was  a  curly-headed  boy  playing  at  my 
father's  knee,  has  expired.  We  thought,  my  son  John 
and  I,  that  we  had  nothing  to  do  except  call  on  the 
earl  and  renew  it.  We  never  dreamed  of  anything 
else,  my  son  John  and  I.  So  we  called,  my  lady,  and 
a  footman  brought  us  word  that  his  lordship  left  all 
the  business  connected  with  the  estate  to  Mr.  Blan- 
tyre.  As  we  were  leaving  home,  I  said  to  my  son 
John,  'John,  we  shall  taste  the  earFs  famous  wine  to- 
day/ and  he,  in  his  cheery  way,  said,  'It. will  do  you 
good,  father.'  But  there  was  no  wine,  my  lady — no 
kindly  greeting  from  the  lord  of  the  castle,  no  mes- 
sage to  the  old  retainers  of  the  house,  except  that  we 
were  to  go  to  Blantyre.  My  lady,"  said  the  old  man, 
solemnly,  as  he  struck  his  stick  upon  the  ground,  "I 
hate  Blantyre! " 


290 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


She  could  have  added,  "So  do  I,"  but  it  was  wiser 
to  be  silent. 

"We  went  to  Blantyre,  my  son  John  and  I.  He 
told  us  that  he  would  not  renew  the  lease.  At  first  we 
thought  that  he  was  mad;  it  seemed  to  us  that  the 
very  stones  by  the  wayside  must  rise  up  and  cry  ou* 
against  it.  He  said  that  we  must  leave  Bromhill. 
My  son  John  looked  at  him,  and  answered: 

"'The  Moores  have  always  lived  at  Bromhill,  ana 
always  will.' 

"'We  shall  see  about  that/  said  Blantyre.  'I  have 
a  more  eligible  tenant  in  view,  and  you  will  be  com- 
pelled to  leave,  whether  you  like  it  or  not.' 

"This  to  a  Moore  of  Bromhill,  my  lady!  I  think  we 
were  too  stunned  to  speak.  We  went  out  of  his  office, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  earth  and  sky  were 
meeting.  Then  we  heard  afterward  that  Peter  Harro- 
gate had  bribed  the  agent  with  a  fifty-pound  note  to 
persuade  Lord  Caraven  to  refuse  us  the  lease.  My 
lady,  it  is  a  crying  injustice.  We  are  sons  of  the 
soil;  we  have  made  the  farm  what  it  is.  If  the  earl 
sends  us  from  it  he  will  send  me  to  my  grave.  I 
should  die  on  the  threshold;  I  could  not  live  one  day 
away  from  my  house.  He  must  not  do  it,  Lady  Cara^ 
ven.  The  bonds  of  long  generations  must  not  be  so 
easily  broken.  He  cannot  send  his  old  retainers 
away  in  that  fashion — men  whose  fathers  died  in  the 
service  of  his  ancestors — men  whose  bodies  have  been 
interposed  to  meet  the  blows  intended  for  the  Lords 
of  Caraven.    What  is  fifty  pounds  compared  to  that?* 

"No,"  replied  Lady  Caraven,  gravely;  "it  must  not 
be.M 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


291 


"They  told  me,"  the  old  man  continued,  "that  the 
young  eari  is  careless,  and  that  he  leaves  everything 
to  Blantyre.  You  will  plead  for  me,  my  lady;  you 
will  remember  that  an  old,  white-haired  man  has  left 
his  life  in  your  hands— for  I  should  die  if  I  heft  my 
home  for  one  day.  Ask  for  justice  for  me,  and  if  the 
agent  must  be  bribed,  I  will  give  him  twice  fifty 
pounds;  ask  for  justice  for  me  as  you  hope  for  mercy." 

All  pale  and  trembling,  she  rose  from  her  seat, 
frightened  at  the  responsibility  that  he  had  placed 
upon  her,  remembering  how  her  last  petition  for 
merciful  consideration  had  been  received. 

"You  may  leave  your  cause  in  my  hands,"  she  said. 
"I  think  I  may  promise  that  you  shall  have  justice." 

He  raised  his  trembling  hands  and  blessed  her,  and 
Lady  Caraven  went  indoors  with  a  weight  at  her 
heart.  Not  least  did  she  feel  her  great  anger  against 
Blantyre,  this  man  who  influenced  her  husband  for 
evil,  who  advised  him  and  counseled  him  in  wrong- 
doing, this  man  who  committed  all  unkind  and  unjust 
acts  in  the  name  of  the  earl.  Then,  with  her  vivid 
imagination,  she  was  not  slow  to  picture  the  painful 
scenes  in  the  farm  at  Bromhill.  It  seemed  to  her 
almost  cruel  that  one  man  should  have  so  much  power 
over  another.  She  remembered  her  last  defeat,  and 
shuddered  when  she  thought  what  another  would  cost 
her. 

She  must  set  about  her  present  undertaking  differ- 
ently; she  must  be  more  gracious,  more  winning;  she 
must  condescend  to  plead.  She  had  the  life  of  a 
white-haired  old  man,  the  happiness  of  a  whole  fam- 


292  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


ily  in  her  hands — there  would  be  no  room  for  self — 
she  must  be  more  patient.  She  remembered  Longfel- 
low's beautiful  words: 

"Bear  a  lily  in  thy  hand — 

Gates  of  brass  cannot  withstand  • 

One  touch  of  that  magic  wand." 

She  would  lose  no  time  in  puzzling  reflections,  but 
do  that  which  had  been  asked  of  her.  She  would  go, 
"lily  in  hand,"  and  refuse  to  leave  her  husband  until 
her  prayer  was  granted.  She  smiled  to  herself  as  she 
thought  how  diplomatic  she  was  growing.  On  the 
last  occasion  that  she  had  a  favor  to  beg  from  him 
she  had  not  thought  of  a  fitting  time.  She  was  grow- 
ing wiser. 

"After  luncheon  to-day,"  she  decided. 

And  that  resolve  to  control  her  own  impatience  and 
study  her  husband's  humors  was  one  of  the  wisest 
resolves  she  had  ever  made  in  her  life. 

After  luncheon  there  was  generally  an  interval  of 
quiet  in  the  castle.  Most  of  the  ladies  went  to  theii 
own  rooms;  some  of  the  gentlemen  went  to  the  bill- 
iard-room, some  sought  the  library.  As  good  fortune 
would  have  it,  Lord  Caraven  went  to  the  library 
alone.    Hildred  followed  him. 

"Are  you  going  to  write  a  letter?"  she  asked. 

"Yes;  unless  you  will  be  kind  enough  to  write  it 
for  me,"  he  replied.  "It  seems  to  me  a  sin  to  exert 
one's  self  on  such  a  day  as  this;"  and  the  handsome 
earl  proceeded  leisurely  to  seat  himself  in  an  easy 
chair,  and  watch  his  wife  while   she   wrote   for  him. 

Her  promptitude  pleased  him;  her  desire  to  meet 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


293 


his  wishes  gratified  frim.  The  letter  she  had  written 
was  just  what  he  wanted.  The  young  wife  smiled  to 
herself  at  the  thought  of  how  well  she  was  progress- 
ing. She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  smile,  saying  to 
herself  that  she  must  bring  the  whole  artillery  of  her 
smiles  and  graces  to  bear  upon  him. 

"Should  you  like  a  companion  for  a  short  time?" 
she  said.  "I  like  this  old  library  in  the  afternoon; 
the  sunshine  slants  on  the  wall.  I  often  come  here, 
and,  looking  around  me,  I  meditate  on  the  glories  of 
the  dead  and  gone  Caravens.  They  were  a  noble 
race;  no  wonder  that  you  are  proud  of  them." 

"I  am  proud  of  them,"  confessed  the  earl.  "I  am 
graceless  enough,  but  I  love  the  honor  of  my  house." 

.  "And  no  wonder.  I  was  looking,  the  other  day,  at 
some  portraits  in  the  Eastern  Gallery.  They  were 
noble  men,  those  ancestors  of  yours;  some  of  them 
have  kingly  faces.  Ah,  they  may  talk  of  worth  and 
money,  but  I  would  rather  have  the  proud  distinction 
of  a  noble  birth  like  yours  than  all  the  money  in  the 
world!  'V 

"Would  you?"  he  asked,  dreamily.  "That  seems 
strange." 

"I  do  not  think  so.  We  all  value  most  highly  that 
which  we  have  not,"  she  replied,  simply.  "It  must 
be  an  incentive  to  a  noble  and  glorious  life  to  have 
such  ancestors  as  yours." 

An  expression  of  deeper  earnestness  than  she  had 
yet  seen  came  over  his  face. 

"I  am  an  unworthy  successor  to  the  honor  of  the 
Caravens,"  he  said.  "I  thought  it  would  all  be 
different  when  I  began  life." 


294 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


'And  why  was  it  not  different?"  asked  the  young 
wife. 

"I  cannot-telV  he  replied.  "I  think  indolence  has 
been  my  ruin.  I  have  never  yet  taken  a  real  interest 
in  anything. " 

"That  is  strange,"  said  Hildred,  "but  it  does  not 
follow  that  you  never  will." 

The  window  at  which  they  were  sitting  was  open, 
and  long  tendrils  of  white  *  jasmine  blew  in.  Some- 
times they  touched  the  earl's  face,  and  it  was  under 
the  pretext  of  removing  them,  lest  they  should  tease 
him,  that  his  young  wife  drew  nearer  to  him.  It  might 
have  touched  any  man's  heart  to  see  how  she  watched 
his  face,  how  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  it,  lest, 
by  word  or  deed,  she  should  irritate  him.  She  drew 
back  the  long  sprays  of  jasmine. 

The  view  from  the  window  was  a  beautiful  one, 
extending  over  the  pleasure  grounds  and  the  green, 
undulating  woods.  The  wind  that  came  in  so  gently 
was  laden  with  the  breath  of  flowers.  Hildred  looked  at 
her  husband,  and  then,  half  kneeling,  she  took  up  her 
station  by  the  side  of  his  chair.  What  it  cost  her  to 
make  that  advance  no  one  but  herself  knew.  Her  face 
flushed,  her  heart  beat.  It  seemed  to  her  a  bold 
step.  If  Lord  Caraven  felt  any  surprise  he  was  care- 
ful not  to  show  it. 

"Your  ancestors  were  such  noble  men,"  she  said. 
"I  had  no  ancestors,  yet  I  would  never  do  a  mean 
action.  Where  do  my  instincts  of  nobility  come 
from?  And  you,  Lord  Caraven — you  call  yourself  an 
unworthy  descendant  of  these  great  men.  Why?" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


295 


"That  is  a  troublesome  question,"  he  replied,  with 
a  smile;  "and  the  answer  would  have  but  little  inter- 
est for  you." 

"Everything  that  concerns  you  interests  me,"  she 
rejoined,  quickly.    "Why  should  it  not?" 

"I  have  not  been  so  kind  to  you,  Hildred,"  he  said, 
"that  you  should  feel  interested  in  me." 

"Perhaps  we  have  both  made  mistakes,"  she  re- 
turned. "I  think  I  can  guess  what  you  would  say.  You 
mean  that  you  have  done  nothing  great  and  glorious." 

"It  may  be  so,"  said  the  earl. 

She  looked  up  at  him,  with  all  her  heart  in  her  eyes. 

"There  is  one  thing  to  be  said,"   she  remarked. 
"You  may  not  have  done  any  great  or  brilliant  deeds 
but  you  have  never  done  a  mean  one." 
"I  hope  not,"  he  replied. 

"Nor,"  she  continued,  quickly,  "would  you  allow  a 
mean  or  unjust  deed  to  be  done  in  your  name — would 
you?"  * 

"No,"  he  answered,  so  decidedly  that  she  was  filled 
with  great  content. 

She  ventured  on  a  further  liberty,  one  that  touched 
him.    She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"I  knew  it,"  she  said;  "I  was  sure  of  it.  I  knew 
that  you  might  seem  indolent,  that  you  might  be 
unfairly  influenced,  that  you  might,  perhaps,  at  times, 
be  misled,  but  I  felt  quite  sure  that  it  was  against 
your  code  of  honor,  against  your  wish  and  will, 
against  your  ideas  of  right." 

"What  is  against  them,  Hildred?"  he  asked. 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  she  laid 
act  Hand  more  tenderly  upon  his. 


296 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Thank  you,"  she  said,  "for  letting  me  speak  to  you. 
I  was  half  afraid  at  first,  but  now  you  give  me  cour- 
age." 

Her  sweet  humility  disarmed  him.  If  she  had  been 
proud,  haughty,  or  petulant,  there  would  have  been 
little  chance  to  plead  her  case.  Her  gentleness 
touched  him.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  took  her 
hands  and  clasped  them  in  his  own. 

"Do  not  be  afraid  of  speaking  to  me,  Hildred,"  he 
said. 

She  had  so  much  at  stake  that  she  trembled.  He 
saw  her  beautiful  face  grow  pale  and  her  lips  quiver. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  gently,  "you  pain  me.  What 
is  it  you  would  say?    Speak  to  me  without  fear." 

Then  she  took  courage.    She  raised  her  eyes  to  his. 

"I  know  of  a  great  act  of  injustice  that  is  being 
done  in  your  name,  Lord  Caraven; "  and,  in  her  own 
forcible,  eloquent  language,  she  told  him  the  whole 
story.    He  listened  in  silence. 

"Do  you  assure  me,  Hildred,"  he  said  at  last,  "that 
this  is  true?" 

"It  is  perfectly  true,"  she  replied. 

"That  Blantyre  has  taken  that  bribe,  and  has  re- 
fused in  my  name  to  renew  Moore's  lease?" 

"Yes,  he  has  done  that." 

"Then,"  said  the  earl,  with  unusual  decision,  "his 
reign  will  be  a  short  one.  He  told  me  that  Moore 
was  letting  the  land  go  to  ruin — that  the  farm  was  not 
bringing  in  half  what  it  could  be  made  to  bring — 
that —  Well,  I  have  not  patience  to  repeat  all  he 
saii     If  this  be  true,  he  has  deceived  me — and,,  by 


PROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


297 


my  earldom,  I  vow  he  shall  not  deceive  me  twice!" 

She  had  hardly  dared  to  hope  for  such  ready  answer 
— such  hopeful  response. 

"Will  you  listen  to  me,"  she  said,  "while  I  tell  you 
more?*' 

"Yes,  I  will  listen/'  replied  the  earl,  with  a  gloomy 
face. 

She  did  not  spare  him.  She  told  him  how  his  estate 
was  worse  cared  for  and  more  mismanaged  than  any 
other  in  England — how  the  poor  cried  out  for  help 
and  did  not  receive  it,  the  sick  and  the  sorrowful  for 
relief  and  did  not  get  it— how  the  wretched  homes 
caused  fever  and  rheumatism  and  a  host  of  miseries 
— how  the  laborers  on  his  estate  were  worse  paid, 
worse  lodged,  and  worse  fed  than  on  any  other — how 
the  tenants  were  more  heavily  burdened — how  his 
name  was  spoken  with  curses,  not  blessings. 

He-  listened  without  reply,  but  she  saw  that  his 
face  had  grown  very  pale  and  that  his  lips  trembled. 
She  spoke  with  passionate  earnestness;  there  should 
be  no  mistake  about  the  matter — he  must  thoroughly 
understand. 

"All  this,"  he  said;  "while  I  have  been  sleeping 
here!  Hildred,  I  will  see  for  myself  what  is  the  truth. 
I  will  trust  to  no  one's  opinion — I  will  go  over  to 
Bromhill.    Will  you  ride  over  with  me?" 

She  looked  at  the  broad,  golden  beams  of  the  sun. 

"It  is  so  warm,"  she  said,  "you  will  not  care  to  go 
out." 

"Warm!"  he  repeated,  almost  wrathfully.  "What 
matters  a  little  heat  when  so  much  is  at  stake?" 
Then  he  looked  quickly  at  her. 


298 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"If  it  is  too   warm   for  you,"  he  said,  "I  will 

alone." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  glad  light  in  her  eyes. 

"No,  she  replied,  "it  is  never  too  warm  for  me.  I 
love  the  sun.    Let  me  go  with  you,  Lord  Caraven." 

"Will  you  ride  or  drive?"  he  asked. 

"I  will  ride,"  she  replied,  having  heard  him  say  that 
morning  that  he  would  rather  ride  ten  miles  than 
drive  one. 

He  looked  pleased. 

"I  will  see  for  myself,"  he  repeated.  "Do  they  think 
that  I  am  so  blind  as  to  be  hoodwinked  with  false 
stories?  " 

"No,  but  they  have  believed  you  too  indolent  even 
to  care  whether  the  stories  were  true  or  not,"  said 
Hildred. 

There  was  some  little  surprise  even  among  the  serv- 
ants at  seeing  the  young  earl  and  countess  ride  ofi 
alone.    What  did  it  mean?    Were  better  times  really 

:oming? 

Sir  Raoul  watched  them  start;  and  he  said  to  him* 

ielf,  as  he  looked  after  them: 

"The  greatest  gift  of  heaven  to  men  is  surely  the 
noble  influence  of  a  noble  woman." 

The  earl  would  see  for  himself — and  he  did  see.  It 
,eemed  to  him  that  he  must  have  been  asleep  for 
/ears.  Where  were  the  smiles  of  welcome  that  years 
ago  used  to  greet  him?  Now  laborers  passed  him 
with  sullen  faces,  with  a  touch  of  the  cap  and  a  mut- 
tered curse.  He  saw  the  wretched  tenements  where 
disease  reigned   triumphant — he  saw  mothers  whose 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


299 


children  had  died  for  want  of  nourishing  food — he 
saw  strong  men  whose  just  condemnation  of  him  was 
written  in  their  averted  eyes  and  closed  lips.  He 
saw  that  for  him  there  was  no  affection,  little  respect ; 
yet  he  was  lord  of  the  soil — in  some  fashion  master  of 
the  destinies  of  these  people. 

He  rode  in  silence — silence  that  his  young  wife  did 
not  care  to  break,  for  she  saw  that  he  was  aroused 
at  last.  They  went  to  Bromhill,  and  there  the  earl 
saw  matters  for  himself.  There  was  little  need  for 
words  to  tell  him  how  the  prestige  of  the  old  name 
had  sunk.  Those  honest  yeomen,  the  %Moores,  whose 
forefathers  had  served  his  ancestors  so  gallantly  and 
well,  had  no  smiles,  no  welcome  for  him;  they  were 
sturdily  respectful;  they  said  little — the  old  man  who 
had  pleaded  so  passionately  to  Hildred,  least  of  all. 
But  the  young,  indolent,  pleasure-loving  earl  shrunk 
before  the  calm,  stern  faces;  he  knew  that  he  was  in 
the  wrong. 

Nevertheless,  if  they  were  stern  and  cold  in  their 
reception  of  the  earl,  they  had  a  warm  welcome  for 
his  beautiful  young  wife.  She  had  not  ignored  cent- 
uries of  service;  she  had  not  broken  the  bonds  be- 
tween master  and  servant;  she  had  not  left  the  best 
interests  of  their  lives  to  Blantyre.  They  crowded 
round  her — even  the  little  children  came  to  give  her 
the  flowers  they  had  gathered,  and  to  look  at  the 
pleasant,  shining  face.  There  was  a  court  of  inquiry 
held  within  th  eold  farm  walls;  the  earl  listened  attent- 
ively to  the  old  man  and  his  sons,  then  he  looked 
gravely  at  them. 


3oo 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"You  have  done  well  to  speak  out  boldly,"  he  said. 
"I  could  as  soon  imagine  Ravensmere  without  a  Cara- 
ven'  as  Bromhill  without  a  Moore.  You  need  not  go 
to  Blantyre  again.  I  will  sign  the  lease— and  it  shall 
be  done  at  once.,, 

He  spoke  only  once  on  his  way  home,  and  then  it 
was  to  say  to  his  wife: 

MI  have  done  justice  there,  and  if  I  can  I  will  do 
justice  whenever  it  is  needed." 

And  as  they  rode  on  through  the  sunlight,  she  told 
him  heaven  would  bless  him  for  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


"in  the  money-lender's  daughter  he  had  found  a 
noble,  high-souled,  glorious  woman" 

Lady  Caraven  was  pleased  as  she  dressed  for  dinner. 
She  recalled  the  happy  faces,  the  grateful  words  that 
she  had  seen*  and  heard  but  a  few  hours  before  at 
Bromhill;  it  was  worth  living  for,  this  power  of  doing 
good.  She  had  seen  something  in  her  husband's  face 
that  day  which  had  surprised  her — something  that 
drove  away  the  indolent,  easy  expression.  Was  the 
sleeping  lion  roused  at  last?  Had  her  passionate 
words,  her  keen  indignation  moved  him?  Had  he 
grown  ashamed  of  his  indolence?  Had  he  tired  of  his 
pleasures? 

Sitting  opposite  to  him  at  the11  dinner-table  she 
looked  at  him  attentively.  Certainly  there  was  a 
change  in  his  face.  It  was  brighter,  keener,  more  on 
the  alert;  the  eyes  were  full  of  light.  He  seemed 
interested  in  what  was  going  on.  Once  during  dinner 
she  met  Sir  Raoul's  glance,  and  it  was  full  of  pleased 
surprise. 

"Now  is  my  time,"  thought  Hildred;  "now  I  may 
secure  what  I  want." 

When  the  gentlemen  came  into  the  drawing-room 
she  made  herself  most  fascinating  and.  charming.  She 
sang,  she  talked;  the  whole  party  thought  her  exceed" 

301 


302 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


ingly  entertaining.  It  was  when  her  husband  was 
looking  most  pleased,  and  listening  to  her  with  real 
interest,  that  she  went  up  to  him. 

"I  have  a  little  favor  to  ask  of  you,"  she  said. 
"Will  you  give  me  five  minutes  of  your  time  this 
evening? " 

His  look  was  one  of  pleased,  bright  expectation. 

"Assuredly,  Hildred — as  long  as  you  like.  I  am 
beginning  to  think  that  my  interviews  with  you  are 
welcome  ones." 

So  when  most  of  the  visitors  had  gone  to  their 
respective  rooms,  the  earl  lingered.  It  was  some- 
thing novel  to  him,  this  appointment  with  his  own 
wife — something  piquant.  He  waited  for  her  in  the 
drawing-room,  where  the  blinds  were  still  undrawn, 
and  through  the  windows  of  which  a  lovely  moon  was 
shedding  floods  of  silvery  light. 

He  sat  down  thoughtfully,  looking  at  the  sky;  he 
could  hear  the  faint  click  of  the  billiard-balls;  he 
knew  that  many  a  merry  jest  was  passing  in  the 
smoking-room. '  But  in  some  vague  fashion — he  could 
hardly  understand  why — he  felt  tired  of  all  such  pas- 
time. His  wife's  earnest  face  rose  up  before  him; 
again  he  seemed  to  hear  her  pleading,  passionate  words. 
Her  own   expression   haunted   him — "a  wasted  life." 

Was  his  life  indeed  wasted?  Young,  handsome, 
talented,  did  he  live  in  vain? 

One  little  circumstance  had  touched  him  to  the 
very  core  of  his  heart.  He  had  said  that  he  would  see 
for  himself  the  state  of  Bromhill  ,  Farm — whether  it 
was  reaily  in  the  desolate  condition  Blantyre  had 


FROM  OUST  THE  GLOOM 


represented.  He  walked  over  the  ground  alone.  Near 
a  gate  that  led  into  a  wheat  field  he  saw  two  little 
girls,  evidently  grandchildren  of  the  old  farmer,  sit- 
ting under  a  hedge. 

"Who  is  that  man?"  asked  the  younger  one. 

The  elder  girl  looked  at  him  half  shyly,  but  he 
affected  not  tc  see  or  hear  them. 

"Hush,  Bessie,"  she  said — "do  not  speak  so  loudly. 
That  is  the  earl  from  the  castle,  who  says  that  grandpa 
must  leave  the  farm." 

The  younger  one,  with  dire  hatred  in  her  face, 
stooped  down  and  picked  up  a  pebble. 

"Shall  I  throw  a  stone  at  him?"  she  asked,  and  the 
elder  sister,  with  a  horrified  expression,  answered: 

"No!" 

It  was  but  a  slight  circumstance,  yet  the  earl  had 
been  deeply  pained  by  it.  He  could  just  remember 
that  when  the  late  earl — his  father — went  among  his 
tenants  it  was  with  the  air  of  one  making  a  royal 
progress;  that  he  was  followed  by  blessings;  that  the 
little  ones  laughed  aloud  as  he  threw  handfuls  of 
small  silver  among  them.  How  different  was  his  own 
case!  A  child  had  taken  up  a  stone  to  fling  it  at  him! 
The  contrast  was  great,  almost  pitiful.  Did  he  deserve 
such  a  reception?  He  could  see  the  childish  face  dark 
with  anger,  the  pink,  dimpled  hand  grasping  the  stone, 
Something  must  be  vitally  wrong  when  even  the  chil- 
dren were  ready  to  stone  him. 

He  sighed  uneasily.  He  had  led  a  very  pleasant 
life.  Getting  through  a  large  fortune  had  been  a 
pleasant  occupation.   He  had  enjoyed  his  gaming,  hi$ 


3°4 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


betting,  his  racing,  his  indolence.  But  now  something 
else  was  stirring  within  him.  Could  it  be  regret  or 
remorse,  or  was  it  simply  that  he  was  tired  and  out  of 
spirits? 

Presently  the  door  opened  and  his  wife  came  in. 
She  had  removed  the  jewels  from  her  hair  and  her 
breast.  Her  lovely  face  shone  with  a  new  light;  her 
rich  dress,  her  dark  hair,  made  her  a  most  attractive 
picture. 

She  went  up  to  him. 

"You  are  very  kind  to  wait,  Lord  Caraven,"  she 
said.  "I  could  not  get  away  before.  Lady  Darners 
insisted  on  my  going  to  her  room  to  see  a  new-fash- 
ioned head-dress  Worth  has  sent  her.  I  could  not  get 
away.    I  am  afraid  you  are  tired." 

"No,"  he  replied;  "I  have  been  watching  the  moon, 
and  thinking" — he  did  not  tell  her  that  his  thoughts 
had  been  of  the  little  child  who  wanted  to  stone  him. 

"I  have  come  to  ask  a  favor  of  you,"  said  the  young 
countess — "a  favor  on  which  the  whole  of  my  life 
depends.  In  granting  it  you  will  make  me  happy;  if 
you  refuse  it  I  shall  be  miserable." 

"That  shall  not  happen  if  I  can  prevent  it,"  he 
answered. 

His  wife  continued:  "I  have  never  complained, 
because  I  saw  no  use  in  it;  but  I  assure  you  that  I 
have  not  been  happy — far  from  it.  Perhaps  I  am 
graver  by  nature  than  some  women.  I  cannot  fill  my 
life  with  gayety,  visiting,  luxury,  and  pleasure.  1 
want  something  more.  Other  women  have  love  to 
live  for — I  have  none." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


She  stopped  suddenly,  looking  terribly  confused. 

"I  understand,"  he  said,  quietly.  "Go  on,  Hildred." 

"My  time  hangs  heavily  on  my  hands.  I  have  noth- 
ing to  do — no  occupation.  Oh,  Lord  Caraven!  be 
patient  with  me!  I  want  to  ask  you  for  something 
that  will  give  me  interest — that  will  occupy  me — that 
will  stand  to  me  in  the  place  of  happiness  and  love." 

"I  will  help  you  to  it,  if  I  can,"  he  replied. 

She  looked  so  fair,  standing  before  him  pleading  her 
own  cause.  She  drew  a  little  nearer  to  him,  as 
though  her  confidence  in  him  were  increasing. 

"This  is  what  I  want  you  to  do  for  me,  Lord  Cara- 
ven," she  said.  "I  am  not  ignorant  of  such  matters; 
you  might  sneer  at  me,  and  say  my  talent  is  heredi- 
tary, but  you  will  not  do  that.  I  have  some  little 
experience,  and  I  should  improve  day  by  day." 

He  looked  at  her  half  wondering,  half  amused. 

"What  is  it,  Hildred?"  he  asked.  "I  do  not  in  the 
least  understand." 

"It  is  this.  I  want  you  to  let  me  be  your  steward — 
I  mean,  let  me  have  charge  of  your  estate.  I  could 
do  the  duties  far  better  than  Mr.  Blantyre." 

"I  give  him  a  large  salary,"  said  Lord  Caraven, 
half  laughing;  "he  ought  to  do  them  well." 

"But  you  have  seen  for  yourself  that  he  does  not," 
she  returned;  "he  is  not  a  just  steward." 

"No,"  was  the  grave  admission,  "he  is  not  just. 
It  is  that  which  grieves  me.  He  has  abused  my  trust. 
I  shall  never  believe  in  him  again." 

"Then  let  me  take  his  place, "she  cried,  eagerly.  "I 
do  not  mean  in  the  mere  keeping  of  accounts — you 


306 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


will  always  want  someone  for  that — nor  even  in  the 
looking  after  little  details;  but  let  me  be  your  head 
steward,  Lord  Caraven,  and  the  welfare  of  your  ten- 
ants and  dependents,  the  well-being  of  your  estate,  the 
care  of  your  property,  shall  be  my  one  interest  in  life. 
I  will  be  content  to  work  early  and  late,  to  live  with- 
out pleasure,  if  you  will  only  grant  my  prayer. " 

"But  you  are  a  lady,  Hildred.  How  could  you  find 
time  for  it?" 

In  her  eagerness  she  forgot  her  reserve — she  laid 
her  hand  upon  his  arm,  and  looked  into  his  face. 

"I  am  not  a  fine  lady;  I  am  a  lawyer's  daughter. 
It  may  even  be  that  I  inherit  my  father's  liking  for 
business.  I  shall  find  time,  believe  me,  if  you  will 
give  your  consent." 

'  "What  would  you  do,  Hildred,  supposing  I  give  my 
consent?"  he  asked. 

"Say  rather  what  I  would  not  do.  I  would  reform 
all  abuses,  I  would  make  Ravensmere  a  model  estate 
— people  should  point  to  it  as  a  pattern.  I  would 
make  your  laborers  men;  they  are  now  only  soulless 
drudges.  I  would  pull  down  those  wretched  cottages 
where  squalor  and  disease  run  riot,  and  build  in  their 
places  houses  such  as  even  the  poor  could  love.  I 
would  educate  the  children.  What  a  question  it  is  you 
ask  me!    What  would  I  not  do?" 

The  earl  rose  from  his  chair;  he  bent  his  head  with 
chivalrous  grace  before  her. 

"My  wife,"  he  said,  "you  shame  me." 

"No,"  she  cried;  "you  must  not  say  that  to  me." 

"I  repeat  it — you  shame  me,"  he  went  on,  "Yes, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


307 


I  give  my  consent — my  free,  full,  hearty  consent. 
You  will  make  a  better  mistress  of  Ravensmere  than 
I  do  a  master.  You  shall  be  the  queen-regent;  I  will 
be  your  prime-minister.  I  place  and  leave  all  author- 
ity in  your  hands,  and  I  promise  you  most  faithfully 
that  I  will  never  interfere;  you  shall  pull  down  and 
build  up — you  shall  do  just  as  you  will — I  will  never 
interfere." 

She  was  so  overjoyed  with  his  promises,  with  the 
change  in  his  manner,  with  the  earnestness  on  his 
face,  that  she  forgot  all  about  her  restraint  and  indiffer- 
ence, and  she  kissed  the  hand  that  held  her  own.  She 
saw  her  husband's  face  flush  crimson,  and  she  drew 
back  suddenly. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said;  "I  am  very  sorry. 
I  did  not  think  of  what  I  was  doing,  I  was  so  over- 
joyed." 

He  took  no  notice  of  the  involuntary  caress,  nor  of 
the  apology,  though  both  had  struck  him. 

"I  am  glad  that  you  are  pleased,  Hildred,"  he  said. 
"In  placing  my  interests  in  your  hands  I  feel  I  have 
done  to-day  the  wisest  action  of  my  life.  To-morrow 
we  will  send  for  Blantyre,  and  you  shall  confront 
him." 

She  left  him  then,  pleased,  happy,  confused,  with  an 
overwhelming  sense  of  the  responsibilities  that  she  had 
assumed,  and  with  something,  she  could  hardly  tell 
what,  stirring  in  her  heart;  while  Lord  Caraven  looked 
in  amazement  at  the  hand  she  had  kissed.  He  won- 
dered if  he  should  ever  understand  her,  and  he  began 
dimly  to  perceive  that  in  the  money-lender's  daughter 


308  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

he  had   found  a  noble,  high-souled,  glorious  woman. 

Then  he  smiled  to  himself,  thinking  that  in  these 
strange  days  it  was  impossible  to  understand  any- 
thing, and  that  it  was  within  the  bounds  of  possibil- 
ity that  Hildred  inherited  her  father's  talents  for  busi- 
ness. 

" And  an  excellent  thing  it  will  be  for  me,"  he  said, 
"if  she  has." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

MA  ROGUE  FROM  LIKING" 

The  visitors  at  Ravensmerc  became  dimly  aware  that 
some  more  important  business  than  usual  was  on  hand. 
The  earl  was  seen  with  a  preoccupied  face.  He  had 
been  heard  to  refuse  Lord  Darner's  challenge  to  a  bill- 
iard-match. He  had  distinctly  stated  that  he  should 
not  join  in  the  hunt  that  Colonel  Hungerford  had 
arranged.  What  was  the  matter?  Lady  Caraven 
was, as  usual,  bright,  beautiful,  and  graceful;  but  those 
who  knew  her  best  saw  that  she  was  engrossed  by 
some  thought. 

The  earl  rung  for  his  footman. 

"When  Mr.  Blantyre  comes,  show  him  into  my 
study,"  he  said;  and  then  he  went  over  to  his  wife. 
"You  do  not  feel  nervous  at  the  task  you  have  under- 
taken?" he  questioned. 

"No,"  she  replied,  calfrily,  "but  I  fancy  that  Mr. 
Blantyre  will  feel  nervous  before  we  have  done  with 
him. " 

The  earl  smiled.  'If  this  trusted  servant  of  his  had 
deceived  him,  the  sooner  he  was  unmasked  and  pun- 
ished the  better. 

"I  think,"  said  Lady  Caraven,  "it  would  be  quite 
as  well  if  we  looked  over  that  balance-sheet  before 
Mr.  Blantyre  comes— it  will  shorten  the  interview." 

809 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


He  acquiesced  at  once,  and  followed  his  wife  to  the 
study.  The  aspect  of  that  room  was  somewhat 
changed.  The  photographs,  the  love-tokens  that  had 
displeased  Lady  Caraven,  the  portraits  of  popular  act- 
resses and  of  well-known  danseuses,  had  all  disap- 
peared; the  room  looked  more  like  a  study,  for  the 
tables  were  covered  with  books  and  papers. 

If  the  young  countess  felt  any  surprise  at  its  changed 
aspect,  she  did  not  evince  it,  though  she  felt  the  com- 
pliment. She  proved  herself  a  wise  woman  by  saying 
little;  if  she  had  uttered  but  one  word  too  much,  she 
might  have  imperiled  all  her  hardly-won  influence. 

Gravely,  proudly,  without  a  word,  she  went  to  the 
table,  and  took  her  seat.  Her  husband  stood  at  some 
little  distance  from  her.  Silently  she  bent  her  head 
over  the  papers. 

"You  have  seldom,  I  suppose,  looked  over  one  of 
these  balance-sheets?"  she  said  to  the  earl. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I  do  not  remember  that  I  have 
ever  examined  one." 

"Then  I  will  look  over  them,"  she  said,  quietly. 
Before  long  she  added,  "Will  you  look  at  this,  Lord 
Caraven?  All  this  is  quite  wrong — several  entries  are 
incorrect,  and  the  reckoning  is  falsified." 

The  earl  was  slightly  embarrassed. 

"I  do  not  think,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Hildred,  that 
*  am  very  clever  at  accounts,"  he  stammered. 

"But  surely  you  can  see  whether  this  is  correct? 
Relieve  me,  a  child  could  see  it." 

"Then  I  am  not  so  wise  even  as  a  child,"  he  said, 
ruefully;  but,  leaning  over  her  shoulder,  he  tried  tQ 
understand  what  she  said. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


311 


It  was,  indeed,  easy  enough — the  whole  sheet,  as 
she  pointed  out,  had  been  gotten  up  to  meet  the  eye. 

"And  you  have  never  noticed  this?"  said  the  young 
countess. 

"No,  indeed,"  he  replied;  "I  have  never  even 
thought  of  it" 

"Then  you  have  been  a  very  easy  master  to  please," 
she  remarked.  "I  need  hardly  say,  Lord  Caraven, 
that  the  man  who  falsifies  his  accounts  is  a  rogue. 
You  know  it." 

"I  know  that  much.  I  am  afraid  to  think  whether 
all  the  balance-sheets  he  has  prepared  since  he  has 
been  my  agent  have  been  like  this." 

"You  have  never  looked  into  one,  I  imagine." 

"No — never. " 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  agent 
himself — the  man  whom,  from  his  face,  Lady  Caraven 
suspected  from  the  first  of  being  dishonest. 

John  Blantyre  was  a  tall,  gentlemanly-looking  man 
of  specious  manner  and  good  address.  A  rogue  from 
liking,  as  much  as  anything  else,  he  would  not  have 
cared  to  be  honest  if  he  could.  He  had  contrived  to 
ingratiate  himself  into  the  favor  of  Lord  Caraven, 
from  the  conviction  that  he  could  do  as  he  liked  with 
the  easy,  indolent,  pleasure-loving  nobleman.  He  had 
done  so.  He  had  pandered  to  all  the  young  earl's 
weaknesses;  to  the  cry  of  "Money,  money,"  he  had  re- 
sponded by  wringing  more  and  more  from  the  tenants, 
by  raising  rents,  refusing  repairs,  by  all  the  mean  and 
inderhand  tricks  that  he  could  play.  He  answered 
the  earl's  purpose  well,  because  he  could,  from  some 


312 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


source  or  other,  always  find  him  money.  The  young 
nobleman  was  too  careless,  too  indolent  to  stop  to 
think  that  while  he  was  thus  impoverishing  the  estate 
the  unjust  steward  was  enriching  himself.  Balance- 
sheets  were  brought  to  him  that  he  never  even  glanced 
at;  banker's  books,  bills,  receipts,  were  passed  over 
in  similar  fashion.  He  never  troubled  to  look  at  any 
of  them.  The  result  was  irretrievable  confusion. 
John  Blantyre  had  laid  aside  a  fair  fortune  for  him- 
self. 

"Let  the  worst  come,"  he  said  to  himself,  "if  I  am 
caught  there  will  be  only  a  few  years'  imprisonment; 
then  I  can  go  abroad  and  enjoy  my  savings." 

Yet  he  relied  implicitly  upon  his  good  fortune  that 
he  should  not  be  caught. 

He  entered  the  room  smiling,  with  his  usual  bland, 
obsequious  manner.  His  face  changed  when  he  saw 
Ihe  Countess  of  Caraven  looking  over  his  balance- 
sheets.  The  earl  pointed  to  a  chair;  the  detected 
thief  sat  down. 

The  young  countess'  eyes  were  raised  to  the  bland 
face  of  the  agent;  they  seemed  to  burn  him.  The  earl 
left  the  discussion  to  her,  as  he  had  said  he  would. 
Words  could  not  have  expressed  the  proud,  cold  con- 
tempt of  her  face  as  she  spoke  to  him: 

"You  are  well  aware,  Mr.  Blantyre,  that  this  balance- 
sheet  is  worth  nothing?  The  accounts  are  all  falsi- 
fied." 

"I  am  not  aware  of  anything  of  the  kind,  your  lady- 
ship. There  may  be  a  few  mistakes — it  was  hurriedly 
made  out.    May  I  ask  permission  to — " 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


313 


"You  may  ask  nothing,  sir,"  she  replied,  curtly. 
"Tell  Lord  Caraven  if  it  be  correct  that  you  have  taken 
a  bribe  from  someone  who  wants  Bromhill  Farm — a 
bribe  to  turn  out  the  old  tenants  and  bring  in  a  new 
one." 

"Lord  Caraven  knows  that  he—" 

But  the  countess  interrupted  him: 

"Did  you  take  the  bribe?  <Yes,'  or  'No?'" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  sullenly. 

"Mr.  Blantyre,"  said  the  young  countess,  "you  are 
a  detected  thief.  You  have  robbed  your  employer,  you 
have  falsified  your  accounts,  you  have  ground  down 
the  poor,  you  have  oppressed  the  helpless,  you  have 
made  my  husband's  name  hated  and  loathed,  you  have 
betrayed  your  trust,  you  have  drawn  down  upon  your 
own  head  the  curses  of  those  people  whom  ill-luck 
has  brought  you  into  contact  with." 

"Stay,  my  lady.  You  accuse  me,  and  give  me  no 
chance  to  defend  myself." 

The  earl  was  watching  his  wife  intently.  He  saw 
the  color  rising  in  her  face,  he  saw  the  light  in  her 
eyes,  he  heard  the  passion,  the  scorn  of  wrong-doing 
that  trembled  in  her  voice. 

"She  is  equal  to  it,"  he  thought;  "there  is  no  need 
for  me  to  interfere." 

"You  cannot  defend  yourself,"  she  replied.  "I  hold 
innumerable  proofs  of  what  I  assert." 

John  Blantyre  cowered  before  the  bright  indignation 
of  the  fearless  eyes,  and  turning  to  the  earl,  said: 

"My  lord,  I  have  been  a  faithful  servant  of  yours; 
have  you  nothing  to  say  for  me?" 


3*4 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Upon  my  word,  Blantyre,  I  believe  you  have  been 
a  most  consummate  rogue,"  answered  the  earl.  "I 
have  placed  all  my  authority  in  the  hands  of  Lady 
Caraven.    She  is  to  do  as  she  will. " 

The  bland  smile  on  the  agent's  face  changed  to  an 
ugly  sneer.  The  young  countess  rose  from  her  seat, 
and,  extending  her  arm,  pointed  with  her  finger  to 
the  door. 

"I  shall  waste  no  words  with  you,  sir,"  she  said. 
"Go.  We  might  prosecute  you,  we  might  force  you 
to  give  up  your  ill-gotten  gains,  we  might  expose  you 
to  the  contempt  of  the  world — but  you  are  not  worth 
it.  I  bid  you  go,  and  the  punishment  of  your  con- 
duct will  be  that  everyone  will  know  that  you  have 
been  dismissed  characterless.    Not  one  word." 

He  made  as  though  he  would  speak.  She  still 
/ept  her  hand  outstretched  to  the  door;  her  eye? 
overmastered  him.    He  turned  to  quit  the  room. 

When  he  reached  the  door,  rage  overcame  pru- 
dence. He  looked  back  at  the  noble  figure  of  the 
young  wife. 

"I  thank  you,  Lady  Caraven,"  he  said.  "I  owe  this 
to  you." 

She  made  no  sign  that  she  heard  him. 

"To  you,"  he  continued,  with  a  sneer;  "and  we  all 
know  that  you  are  here  only  on  sufferance.  Take  care 
that  your  own  turn  does  not  come." 

There  was  no  answer.  Not  even  a  quiver  of  the 
white  eyelids  showed  that  she  heard.  His  rage 
increased. 

Good  day,   Countess  of  Caraven,"  he  said.  "You 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


315 


have  called  me  a  thief,  you  have,  after  a  fashion, 
ruined  me.  I  will  be  revenged — I  swear  it.  Even 
should  years  pass  before  I  can  carry  out  my  purpose, 
I  will  be  revenged." 

And  with  those  words  he  quitted  the  study. 

Lord  Caraven  made  a  hasty  step  across  the  room  to 
punish  John  Blantyre's  insolence,  but  his  wife  touched 
him  gently. 

"You  would  not  surely,"  she  said,  "soil  your  hands 
with  him?" 

"I'll  kill  him  if  he  insults  you!"  he  exclaimed. 

"He  will  not  have  the  chance  of  insulting  me  again, 
Lord  Caraven;  now  we  will  forget  him.  The  unjust 
man  shall  pass  away,  and  his  place  shall  know  him 
no  more;  we  have  finished  with  John  Blantyre — now 
for  happier  times.  If  the  poor  people  on  the  Ravens- 
mere  estates  knew  what  has  happened  they  would  set 
the  bells  ringing  for  joy." 

He  watched  her  as  she  went  with  her  free,  grace- 
ful, proud  step  and  flung  the  window  wide  open. 

"We  will  have  some  fresh  air,"  she  said.  "I  can 
never  bear  the  atmosphere  in  which  a  bad  man  has 
breathed. " 

"You  would  not  be  a  good  prison  matron,"  he 
remarked,  laughingly. 

"No,  I  hate  wickedness.  I  have  a  constitutional  dis- 
like to  it;  and  I  love  goodness  with  all  my  heart." 

"Then  to  win  the  love  of  your  heart  one  must  be 
good?"  questioned  the  earl. 

"Not  only  good  but  noble,"  she  replied;  and  then 
their  tete-a-tete  was  interrupted.  Lord  Darners  wanted 
the  earl* 


316  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

Long  after  he  had  left  the  room  she  stood  wonder- 
ing if  John  Blantyre  would  keep  his  oath,  and  if  he 
did,  what  manner  of  vengeance  he  would  take.  Not 
even  a  gleam  of  the  terrible  reality  came  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

"we  shall  have  no  more  pale,  stunted,  deformed 
children" 

Before  many  days  had  elapsed  it  became  apparent 
that  a  new  reign  had  begun  at  Ravensmere.  Sir 
Raoul  was  charmed  and  delighted;  he  never  wearied 
of  praising  Lady  Caraven  and  telling  her  what  a 
noble  work  she  was  doing;  he  did  his  best  to  help 
her.  A  wonderful  change  was  coming  over  the  earl. 
Not  that  he  was  beginning  even  in  the  least  to  love 
his  wife — that  idea  had  not  yet  occurred  to  him;  but 
he  was  beginning  to  treat  her  with  great  respect,  to 
recognize  the  fact  that  she  was  a  high-souled  woman. 
It  was  of  her  mind  he  thought;  her  personal  charms, 
great  as  they  were,  had  not  as  yet  impressed  him. 
He  had  started  with  the  conviction  that  his  wife  was 
a  dark-eyed,  unformed  school-girl,  and  he  had  not  as 
yet  made  the  discovery  that  she  was  a  beautiful  woman; 
but  her  mind  impressed  him — her  calm  patience,  her 
lofty  standard  of  thought  and  action,  her  purity,  her 
intense  desire  to  do  her  duty,  had  all  surprised  and 
then  pleased  him.  He  wondered  that  he  had  been 
blind  to  these  qualities  for  so  long,  but  he  consoled 
himself  by  thinking  that  they  were  only  just  developed 
and  perhaps  never — such  was  the  observant  power  of 
the  man — would  have  been  developed  but  for  the  cir- 

317 


3z8 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


cumstances  in  which  she  was  placed.  He  never  dreamed 
of  loving  her — he  had  started  with  the  idea  that  he 
did  not  love  her  and  never  should.  He  was  a  man 
slow  to  change  his  ideas. 

But,  although  the  idea  of  love  had  not  occurred  to 
him,  their  relations  toward  each  other  were  fast  chang- 
ing. The  beautiful,  gifted  wife  was  fast  taking  her 
place  in  every  respect  and  in  every  way,  except  in  her 
husband's  heart.  Her  patience  and  good  sense  never 
failed  her,  little  failures  did  not  daunt  her.  Her  cour- 
age seemed  invincible;  if  she  'ever  felt  discouraged, 
she  never  showed  it.  Her  influence  over  the  earl 
increased  every  day;  yet  there  were  relapses  into  the 
old  faults.  There  were  mornings  when,  after  having 
played  cards  half  the  night,  he  would  sleep  away  the 
lovely, fresh,  sunlighted  hours,  and  come  down  at  noon 
with  just  sufficient  grace  to  feel  ashamed  of  himself. 
Then  it  was  that  her  calm,  noble  patience  was  shown 
to  perfection.  She  did  •  not  reproach  him  as  other 
women  would  have  done,  she  did  not  utter  little  sar- 
casms and  talk  "at"  him,  as  is  the  fashion  with  some 
of  the  best  of  wives;  there  was  a  high-mindedness 
about  her  that  was  irresistible.  It  was  the  same  with 
his  other  evil  habits.  If  the  old  fascination  came  over 
him,  and  he  spent  a  day  and  a  night  at  the  billiard- 
table,  to  the  utter  neglect  of  all  other  duties,  she  was 
patience  itself.  She  avoided  that  worst  of  all  faults 
that  even  good  wives  have — lecturing.  The  earl  knew 
that  although  he  might  fail,  might  break  down  in  his 
resolutions,  there  was  a  kind,  firm  hand  to  help  him 
to  rise  again.    In  some  kind  of  fashion  they  were 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


319 


like  two  friends;  like  husband  and  wife  they  certainly 
were  not. 

Lady  Caraven  lost  no  time  when  her  husband  had 
once  given  her  permission  to  act.  He  affected  to 
laugh  and  feel  amused  at  her  zeal  and  enthusiasm — 
in  reality  they  shamed  him.  He  asked  her  what  her 
Erst  reform  was  to  be;  and  she  told  him  all  the  labor 
ars'  cottages  were  to  be  pulled  down,  and  fresh  houses 
built  for  them — houses  where  the  first  laws  of  health 
could  be  regarded.  She  wanted  good  fresh  air, 
dry  walls,  pure  water,  plenty  of  room.  She  did  not 
rest  until  the  workmen  were  busy  in  removing  what 
she  called  the  "fever  acres." 

She  was  to  have  it  all  her  own  way,  yet  she  showed 
the  sweetest  submission  to  her  husband.  When  the 
architect  and  builder  waited  upon  her  with  plans  for 
the  model  cottages,  she  took  them  at  once  to  him. 
He  looked  up  laughingly. 

"You  pay  me  a  compliment,  Hildred,"  he  said;  "but 
it  is  your  affair  entirely,  not  mine." 

"I  shall  find  no  pleasure  in  it  unless  I  have  your 
approval,"  she  replied.  "I  am  your  head  steward,  not 
your  guide.    Look  over  these  with  me," 

They  sat  down  side  by  side,  and  Lord  Caraven  posi- 
tively forgot  all  about  the  plans  in  his  wonder  at  his 
wife.  How  bright  her  face  grew  as  she  dwelt  upon 
the  advantages  of  the  pretty  houses! 

"We  shall  have  no  more  pale,  stunted,  deformed 
children,"  she  said.  "Ah,  Lord  Caraven,  you  do  not 
know  how  the  sight  of  those  children  has  touched  my 
heart!  Do  you  remember  Mrs.  Browning's  pathetic 
lines — 


32o 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"'The  children— oh,  my  brothers!'" 

"No,  I  have  never  heard  them,"  he  replied. 

"If  you  saw  the  dull,  pale  faces,  the  dim  eyes,  th* 
deformed  limbs!  I  always  feel  ready  to  cry  out: 
'Give  the  children  air,  for  heaven's  sake!'  Now  in 
these  our  new  houses  they  will  have  air;  we  shall  see 
rosy  faces,  we  shall  hear  the  music  of  glad  young 
voices,  and  as  you  pass  by  they  will  bless  you,  Lord 
Caraven— they  will  stand  up  together,  the  young  and 
the  old,  to  bless  you.    Oh,  let  us  make  haste!" 

Looking  at  her,  listening  to  her,  he  thought  of  the 
child  with  the  darkening  face.  "Shall  I  throw  a  stone 
at  him?"  What  a  contrast  between  the  picture  she 
painted  and  the  sad  reality!  Something  like  a  sob 
rose  to  the  lips  of  the  earl.  Stoned  by  a  child!  How 
the  disgrace  of  it  clung  to  him! 

"You  are  thinking  of  something  else,"  she  said, 
suddenly  coming  to  a  close  in  the  midst  of  her 
description  of  cottage  gardens. 

"I  plead  guilty,"  answered  Lord  Caraven.  "I  was 
thinking  of  you. " 

"Of  me?"  she  exclaimed,  with  such  sincerity  of  sur- 
prise that  he  was  startled.  "I  did  not  know  that  you 
ever  thought  of  me.  You  must  not  think  of  me  now;  I 
want  all  your  attention  for  these  plans.  You  must 
decide  as  to  them." 

"I  cannot  help  thinking  of  you,  Hildred.  Tell  me 
— from  where  do  you  get  your  wonderful  energy,  your 
fresh,  bright  interest  in  everything?" 

"I  cannot  tell  you,"  she  replied,  "I  suppose  all 
things  are  part  of  myself." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Then  you  have  a  very  wonderful  self,  Hildred,and  I 
may  be  pardoned  for  thinking  of  it.  Now  about  these 
plans — I  think  this  is  the  simplest,  the  prettiest,  and 
the  best." 

They  discussed  them  in  full  detail  and  that  conver- 
sation had  something  so  interesting,  so  piquant  in  it, 
that  the  earl  was  deeply  interested. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Hildred,  looking  up  with  a  charfcv. 
ing  smile — "I  am  grateful  to  you  for  relieving  me  in 
my  perplexity." 

"The  pleasure  has  been  all  on  my  side,"  he 
answered,  and  that  was  the  most  gallant  speech  that 
the  earl  had  yet  made  to  his  wife. 

The  difference  in  him  was  plainly  to  be  seen.  Men 
who  had  gamed  and  betted  with  him,  who  had  won 
his  money  and  paid  him  in  flattery,  shrank  from  him, 
seeing  that  their  hour  was  over.  They  sneered  about 
Jim,  and  said  something  to  each  other  about  petti- 
coat government.  But  one  day,  when  Lord  Caraven 
had  refused  a  heavy  wager  at  billiards,  someone 
remarked  that  Lady  Caraven  had  taught  him  better 
ways.    He  looked  up  with  a  frank  laugh. 

"My  wife?"  he  said.  "Oh,  no!  She  has  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it,"  and  he  honestly  believed  what  he 
said. 

Her  influence  had  been  so  wisely  directed,  so  spar- 
ingly used  that  he  could  not  trace  it;  and  he  thought 
ihat  he  alone  had  roused  himself  from  his  long  trance 
&i  indolence.  No  woman  on  earth  could  have  won  a 
greater  victory. 

**\  ~'*    so  glad  I  have  been  patient,"  she  said  to  her 


$22 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


self.  "I  am  lad  I  chose  the  higher  and  nobler  part 
instead  of  the  weaker  one  of  running  away/* 

So  time  passed  on,  and  the  beautiful  summer  days 
were  filled  with  schemes  and  plans  for  the  benefit  of 
others. 

It  seemed  to  the  earl  that  he  was  really  waking  up 
Jtom  a  long  sleep.  The  world  was  wearing  a  differ- 
ent aspect  for  him.  He  had  never  given  even  a  thought 
lo  politics.  With  the  arbitrary  insolence  of  youth  he 
had  pronounced  them  nonsense — and  that  was  one  of 
the  things  that  Sir  Raoul  most  deplored.  Hildred, 
too,  was  sorry  for  it.  She  had  been  so  successful  in 
other  matters  that  she  ventured  at  last  upon  this.  It 
was  by  a  series  of  well-directed  questions  that  she 
first  aroused  his  attention.  In  trying  to  answer  them 
he  grew  interested  himself. 

"If  I  could  vote,"  Hildred  had  a  fashion  of  saying, 
"I  should  try  to  urge  that  measure." 

At  last  Lord  Caraven  awoke  to  the  consciousness 
that  in  the  government  of  Britain's  mighty  empire 
jte,  too,  ought  to  have  a  voice. 

They  had  seen  nothing  of  John  Blantyre  since  his 
abrupt  dismissal.  The  earl  had  been  told  that  he  had 
left  Mere  Cottage,  but  that  he  was  living  at  Court 
Raven.  That  piece  of  intelligence  did  not  trouble 
him;  the  unjust  steward  was  part  and  parcel  of  the 
past — a  past  he  was  beginning  to  think  of  with  regret 
Nevertheless,  John  Blantyre  lived  only  for  his  revenge. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


"only  a  few  months  and  such  a  difference  ik  lord 
caraven" 

Autumn  came  with  its  golden  wheat,  its  ripe  fruit, 
its  gorgeous  beauty  of  coloring.  The  spirit  of  improve- 
ment was  at  work  at  Ravensmere;  already  the  obnox- 
ious cottages  had  disappeared,  and  in  their  places 
clean,  healthy,  well-drained  dwelling-houses  were 
springing  up.  Lady  Caraven  worked  hard,  allowing 
herself  little  rest,  and  the  earl  was  filled  with  wonder 
at  her  systematic  method. 

"You  ought  to  have  been  a  man  and  a  lawyer,  Hil- 
dred,"  he  said  to  her  one  day. 

"I  would  rather  be  a  woman  and  a  countess,"  she 
replied,  with  a  happy  laugh. 

The  first  thing  that  she  had  done  was  to  make  a 
list  of  every  laborer  and  dependent  on  the  estate,  his 
name,  condition,  income,  the  number  of  his  children, 
how  they  lived,  and  where  they  were  educated,  so  that 
there  was  not  one  a  stranger  to  her.  The  earl  looked 
admiringly  at  it. 

"Do  you  really  mean  to  say,  Hildred,  that  all  these 
people  are  dependent  on  me — that  more  or  less  I  have 
an  interest  in  all  of  them?" 

"I  do  mean  it,"  replied  his  wife,  earnestly,  "and 
there  seems  to  be  something  noble  to  me  in  the  idea 

323 


324 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


that  one  man  has  it  in  his  power  to  benefit  so  many 
others. " 

"That  is  from  your  side  of  the  question,"  said  the 
earl;  but  he  thought  more  seriously  than   he  spoke. 

Already  a  perceptible  change  had  come  over  Ravens- 
mere.  Fast-looking  men  who  had  rejoiced  in  the  title 
of  his  lordship's  friends  had  all  left — men  of  note 
were  beginning  to  seek  his  society.  He  had  written 
several  articles  on  social  science  and  home  politics 
that  had  been  highly  thought  of — he  who  believed 
himself  too  indolent  even  to  write  a  letter — but  those 
articles  and  essays  were  rather  the  result  of  his  wife's 
observation  than  his  own.  Women  were,  of  course, 
very  much  inferior;  but  it  was  a  great  thing  to  have  a  » 
clever  wife.  She  would  talk  to  him,  suggest  ideas, 
give  her  opinion;  and  then,  when  they  had  discussed 
the  matter  well,  she  would  say  to  him: 

"Those  are  excellent  ideas  of  yours — why  not  put 
them  into  form?" 

It  was  she  who  revised  and  corrected  his  papers — 
she,  to  whom,  in  fact,  they  really  owed  their  existence, 
although  the  world  praised  him.  His  reputation  was 
growing  rapidly.  Only  a  few  months,  and  such  a 
difference! 

"Thank  heaven  that  I  have  been  patient!"  the 
young  countess  often  said  to  herself. 

They  worked  together.  She  made  their  duties  so 
pleasant  to  him  that  he  would  not  for  the  world  have 
renounced  them.  Husband  and  wife  became,  as  the 
earl  said,  good  companions,  good  friends.  They  had 
many  interests  now  in  common — the  improvement  of 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM  325 

the  estate,  the  building  of  model  cottages,  the  edu- 
cation of  the  young,  the  relief  of  the  aged  and  dis- 
tressed. With  a  thoughtful  look  in  his  blue  eyes  the 
earl  would  sometimes  say  to  his  wife: 

"I  cannot  imagine  why  I  thought  all  this  so  tire- 
some before,  or  what  gives  me  so  much  pleasure  to  do 
it  now." 

No  one  was  more  gratified  than  Sir  Raoul.  He 
exulted  in  the  fact  that  his   predictions  were  fulfilled. 

"I  always  thought  a  good  woman's  influence  bound- 
less," he  said;  "now  I  am  sure  of  it." 

But  he  was  not  misled;  he  saw  exactly  how  things 
were — that  the  earl  had  started  with  the  conviction 
that  his  wife  was  an  unformed  girl,  and  that,  though 
believing  her  now  to  be  a  very  clever  woman,  he  still 
retained  much  of  his  early  impression.  Lord  Cara- 
ven  had  accepted  the  fact  that  he  did  not  love  her 
with  a  lover's  love,  and  that  their  marriage  was  a  fatal 
mistake  into  which  his  own  folly  had  led  him — and 
he  had  not  changed  his  opinion;  he  absolutely  never 
thought  of  love  with  reference  to  her.  They  were 
good  friends,  with  one  common  interest — that  was  all. 

But  with  Hildred  it  was  not  quite  the  same  thing. 
She  had  once  loved  him;  and  now,  as  his  better 
nature  appeared,  she  began  to  care  for  him  again. 
Not  that  she  ever  betrayed  such  a  feeling  to  him. 
She  was  kind,  affectionate,  patient;  she  devoted  her- 
self to  his  service;  but  no  word  indicating  a  warmer 
feeling  than  friendship  ever  escaped  her  lips.  She 
did  dot  even  own  to  herself  or  know  that  she  was 
beginning  to  love  him.    It  was  almost  impossible  to 


326 


FROM   OUT  THE  GLOOM 


help  it.  There  was  something  very  lovable  about  the 
careless,  debonair  man;  his  very  faults  had  a  kind  of 
charm  because  he  owned  them  so  frankly;  his  hand- 
some face  would  have  been  a  passport  to  any  woman's 
heart;  moreover,  he  was  so  earnest  in  his  endeavor  to 
do  better,  so  truly  sorr^  for  the  ill-spent,  miserable 
past,  so  anxious  not  to  relapse  into  bad  habits.  She 
could  not  help  loving  him. 

"I  can  imagine,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "how  a 
mother  feels  who  has  taught  her  little  child  to  walk.' 

She  had  a  half-protecting  fondness  for  him;  she 
would  fain  have  stood  between  him  and  every  tempta- 
tion of  his  life — have  been  his  good  angel;  he  was  in 
some  vague  way  to  her  a  child  whom  she  had  taught 
and  trained.  Whether  this  affection  would  develop 
into  the  jealous  love  of  a  woman  remained  to  be  seen. 
She  found  herself  always  thinking  of  him,  always  try- 
ing to  find  out  what  would  please  him,  always  study- 
ing him;  there  was  hardly  a  moment  in  the  day  in 
which  her  thoughts  did  not  dwell  on  him.  When  he 
called  her  by  name,  her  heart  thrilled  with  pleasure; 
when  he  praised  her,  even  ever  so  faintly,  it  seemed 
to  her  that  earth  held  no  higher  joy;  if  he  asked  her 
to  do  anything,  she  knew  no  rest  nor  peace  until  it 
was  done.  There  was  no  man  in  England  whose  com* 
forts  were  better  attended  to;  yet  husband  and  wife 
were  simply  good  friends — nothing  more. 

One  day,  after  luncheon,  when  some  visitors  were 
staying'  with  them,  the  conversation  turned  on  a  cer- 
tain Lady  Hamilton,  who  had  just  returned,  a  widow, 
from  India. 


FROM   OUT  THE  GLOOM 


3*7 


"Lady  Hamilton  was  one  of  your  early  loves,  Ulric, 
was  she  not?"  said  Sir  Raoul,  laughingly. 

"I  suppose  so,"  replied  the  earl,  carelessly.  "I  had 
a  great  many  early  loves,  if  one  may  believe  all  the 
stories  told.    Do  you  know  what  my  own  opinion  is?" 

"No,"  answered  Sir  Raoul,  "I  do  not." 

"I  do  not  believe  that  I  have  ever  loved  at  all — that 
is,  using  the  word  'love'  in  its  best  and  highest 
sense. " 

"Then  it  is  for  want  of  appreciation,"  said  Sir 
Raoul  curtly. 

Neither  of  them  knew  that  Hildred  had  overheard 
the  few  chance  words,  but  they  pierced  her  heart  as 
with  a  two-edged  sword. 

He  had  never  loved  anyone!  She  was  his  wife; 
he  had  never  loved  her,  and  she  had  been  fancying 
that  his  manner  had  changed — that  he  was  in  some 
fashion  growing  fond  of  her.  How  wofully  mistaken 
she  was!  Her  face  burned  as  she  thought  of  those 
early  loves  of  his.  Who  were  they?  How  much  had 
he  cared  for  them?  Had  he  whispered  sweet  words 
into  willing  ears?  Had  he,  who  had  never  once  kissed 
her,  kissed  the  fair  faces  of  those  early  loves?  Her 
heart  beat  fast  as  she  thought  of  it.  Then  she  called 
herself  to  account.  Was  she — an  unloved,  neglected 
wife — jealous  of  the  flitting  loves  of  an  hour?  She  was 
startled  when  she  found  that  the  pretty  ivory  paper 
knife  she  had  been  holding  in  her  hands  was  broken. 

"What  has  come  over  me?"  she  asked  herself. 

He  had  never  loved  anyone.  Would  he  live  his  life 
without  love?  And,  if  he  loved  anyone,  would  it  be  her? 


328 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"It  is  a  terrible  thing  that  we  have  done,"  she  said 
to  herself— "married  without  love.  Ah,  me!  if  ever  a 
girl  as  young  and  ignorant  as  I  was  comes  to  me  and 
asks  the  same  question  that  I  asked  my  father,  I  shall 
say  to  her,  'Marry  without  money,  without  position, 
without  worldly  prospects,  if  you  will;  but  rather  die 
than  marry  without  love!" 

A  kind  of  jealousy  that  she  could  not  understand 
took  possession  of  her.  If,  on  looking  at  pictures  or 
photographs,  Lord  Caraven  praised  one  or  thought  it 
pretty,  she  would  examine  it  in  detail  to  find  out,  if 
possible,  what  he  admired  in  it.  If,  in  speaking  of 
any  lady  friend  or  visitor,  the  earl  expressed  his 
admiration  of  her,  a  vague  unrest  would  come  over  his 
wife;  she  would  try  to  understand  what  attracted  him. 
He  had  a  frank,  careless,  easy  way  of  expressing  him- 
self. Often,  when  she  heard  him,  her  face  would  sud* 
deny  grow  pale  even  to  her  lips.  If  he  loved  at  all, 
he  must  love  her. 

Lord  Caraven  discerned  nothing  of  this,  but*  Sir 
Raoul  was  more  deeply  versed  in  human  nature,  and 
he  saw  that  the  young  countess  was  beginning  to  love 
her  husband  with  passionate  love.  He  did  not  know 
whether  to  be  pleased  or  sorry — whether  her  love 
would  ever  be  returned.  Yet  he  could  not  feel  sur- 
prised. 

"He  owes  everything  to  her,"  thought  Sir  Raoul; 
"yet  the  last  thought  that  would  enter  his  mind  would 
be  to  love  her. " 

Sir  Raoul  also  saw  another  thing,  and  that  was 
that,  despite  her   noble  character,  her  great  virtues, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM  329 

her  heroism,  her  patience,  her  devotion  to  one  idea, 
she  had  one  fault,  and  that  was  jealousy.  Sir  Raoul 
had  noticed  it  in  little  things,  and  once  he  laugh- 
ingly told  her  of  it. 

"You  are  jealous,  Hild/ed,"  he  said;  "there  is  one 
weed  among  many  beautiful  flowers — you  are  jealous." 

She  stood  quite  still  for  a  few  minutes  after  he  had 
spoken,  and  then  she  looked  up  at  him  thoughtfully. 

"You  are  right,"  she  said,  frankly — "I  believe  I  am 
jealous." 

Sir  Raoul  was  amused  at  her  candor. 

"It  is  true,"  he  went  on;  "I  have  noticed  it  often. 
You  will  not  allow  anyone  to  feed  your  pet  canary; 
and  if  those  tame  white  doves  of  yours  flutter  round 
anyone  else  you  do  not  like  it." 

There  was  no  smile  in  the  dark  eyes  raised  to  his — 
only  an  expression  of  perplexity  and  bewilderment. 

"You  are  quite  right,"  she  said;  "but  I  had  not 
thought  of  it  before — I  have  not  been  tried.  I  have 
had  no  especial  temptation.  No  one  has  ever  made  me 
jealous,  because,  I  suppose,  no  one  has  ever  loved 
me  very  much;  but  I  have  capability  in  me." 

"To  be  sure  you  have — all  dark-eyed  women  with 
southern  faces  like  yours  have  a  touch  of  jealousy," 
remarked  Sir  Raoul.  "How  grave  you  look  concerning 
it,  Hildred." 

"I  am  thinking  gravely,"  she  replied/  "I  am  saying 
to  myself  that  I  hope  and  trust  and  pray  I  shall  never 
have  anything  to  be  really  jealous  about.  I  feel — well 
I  do  not  know  how  to  express  myself  clearly,  but  I 
believe  that  I  could  be  madly  jealous,  and  then,  if  I 
were,  I  could  do  great  wrong." 


330  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

"I  do  not  fear  for  you,"  said  Sir  Raoul.  "You 
will  never  go  very  far  wrong,  Hildred. " 

There  was  a  half-scared  expression  on  her  beautiful 
face. 

"I  do  hope,"  she  rejoined,  "that  I  shall  never  be 
tried.  Jealousy  has  done  some  strange  things.  It  is 
as  bitter  as  death,  and  as  cruel  as  the  grave.  I  may 
comfort  myself,  though,"  she  added,  with  a  bitter 
laugh;  "there  cannot  be  jealousy  without  love,  and  I 
have  none  to  give  and  none  i»  receive." 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


"the  very  queen  qf  coquettes 

It  was  almost  autumn,  and  people  were  saying  to 
each  other  smilingly  that  summer  seemed  unwilling  to 
go.  The  wheat  was  standing  now  in  great  golden 
sheaves,  the  fruit  hung  ripe  upon  the  trees. 

One  morning  a  letter  came  to  Ravensmere.  It  was 
from  Lady  Hamilton,  to  say  that  she  was  returning 
from  Cowes,  where  she  had  been  staying  for  some 
time,  and  would  be  glad  to  pay  her  promised  visit. 

Lord  Caraven's  first  sensation  on  reading  the 
coquettish  little  note  was  not  one  of  unmitigated 
pleasure.  They  had  been  spending  a  very  happy  week 
alone,  the  earl,  the  countess,  and  Sir  Raoul.  They 
had  been  watching  the  builders'  progress,  watching 
the  improvements;  and  the  earl  was  more  pleased 
than  he  would  have  cared  to  say  at  seeing  once  more 
a  smile  on  the  faces  around  him.  He  did  not  feel 
quite  sure  at  first  that  he  cared  for  the  coming  inter- 
ruption.   He  gave  the  letter  to  Lady  Caraven. 

"If  she  comes,"  he  said,  "it  is  pretty  certain  wc 
must  invite  a  party  to  meet  her." 

The  young  countess  looked  up. 

"We  are  a  party,"  she  told  him;  "we  are  three." 

Lord  Caraven  laughed. 

331 


332 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Three  is  a  very  small  number,  Hildred.  What 
would  Lady  Hamilton  say  if  she  came  here  and  found 
that  we  had  not  invited  one  to  meet  her?  Raoul  and 
I  would  be  exhausted  by  the  amount  of  homage  we 
should  have  to  pay.  Lady  Hamilton  is  the  very 
queen  of  coquettes." 

"I  do  not  like  coquettes,"  said  Lady  Caraven,  curtly. 

"It  would  be  wonderful  if  you  did,"  laughed  her 
husband.  "Dark-haired  and  dark-eyed  women,  like 
you,  Hildred, are  generally  severe;  golden  hair  and  blue 
eyes  take  naturally  to  flirtation.  But  that  is  no  settle- 
ment of  our  difficulty.  There  is  but  one  course  open 
to  us — to  write  and  say  that  we  shall  be  delighted. 
You  will  write,  of  course?" 

"If  5'ou  wish  it,"  said  Hildred,  quietly. 

"Then  we  will  draw  up  a  list  of  people  to  invite 
while  she  is  here.  We  must  have  some  eligible 
men." 

"What  does  she  want  eligible  men  for?"  asked 
Hildred,  and  the  two  gentlemen  laughed  at  the  ques- 
tion. 

"Is  she  a  widow?"  continued  the  young  countess. 

"One  of  the  youngest,  prettiest,  wealthiest  widows 
in  England,"  said  the  earl. 

Lady  Caraven  felt  a  vague  dawning  of  jealous  dis- 
like. 

"I  am  almost  sorry  that  she  is  coming  now,"  put 
in  Sir  Raoul;  "we  are  so  very  happy — all  our  quiet- 
ness will  be  broken  up  and  destroyed." 

In  his  heart  Lord  Caraven  almost  re-echoed  the 
wish. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


333 


'You  forget  the  honor,  Raoul,"  he  said,  gayly. 
'Lady  Hamilton  does  not  visit  everywhere;  nor  does 
she  accept  all  invitations.  I  know  a  German  grand 
duchess  and. a  Russian  princess  whom  she  refused.'1 

"What  is  her  rule  in  accepting  invitations  then?" 
asked  Hildred. 

"1  think,  as  pleasure  guides  her  in  everything,  she 
goes  only  where  she  thinks  she  shall  enjoy  herself," 
replied  the  earl. 

"And  what  does  she  think  she  shall  enjoy  here?" 
a^ked  the  young  wife,  anxiously. 

A  gleam  of  mischievous  humor  came  into  the  earPs 
face. 

"Perhaps  a  rumor  of  Raoul's  gallantry  has  reached 
her,"  he  said,  but  Sir  Raoul  indignantly  rejected  the 
supposition. 

Perhaps  the  Countess  of  Caraven  had  never  under- 
taken a  task  more  unpleasant  to  her  than  the  writing 
of  this  letter,  yet  it  had  to  be  done  with  all  the  grace- 
ful courtesy  imaginable.  Then  the  earl  made  out  a 
list  of  people  whom  he  thought  the  brilliant  young 
widow  would  like  to  meet. 

"There,"  he  said,  "we  have  an  eligible  marquis,  a 
court  favorite,  a  millionaire,  a  philosopher,  and  a  sol- 
dier. Surely  between  them  her  ladyship  will  receive 
homage  enough." 

His  wife  noted  with  infinite  satisfaction  that  he  had 
not  mentioned  himself.  Evidently  he  had  no  idea  of 
paying  homage  to  her;  but  the  words,  "one  of  the 
youngest,  prettiest  widows  in  England,"  had  made  a 
disagreeable  impression  on  her.    She  could  not  tell 


334 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


why,  but  she  had  an  unpleasant  foreboding  that  evil 
would  come  from  the  widow's  visit,  evil  both  bitter 
and  sore. 

"There  is  another  thing,  Hildred, "  said  Lord  Cara- 
ven — ".Lady  Hamilton  must  have  amusement.  You 
will  have  to  lay  aside  your  work  for  a  time  and  attend 
to  it.  We  must  have  a  ball — a  grand  ball,  not  a  mere 
dancing  party — we  must  have  dinner  parties  and  pic- 
nics, a  regular  round  of  entertainments." 

'And  my  work  must  stand  still,"  she  interrogated 
regretfully.  ✓ 

"I  am  sorry  for  it,  because  I  know  that  your  heart  is 
in  it,  but  rank  and  position  have  duties  that  we  can- 
not ignore.  When  a  lady  like  Lady  Hamilton  volun- 
teers a  visit,  it  is  necessary  to  receive  her  with  all 
courtesy.  You  will  be  able  to  do  something,  but  not 
much. " 

She  sighed  deeply,  and  her  beautiful  face  became 
sad. 

"I  am  sorry,  dear,"  he  said,  kindly;  "but  it  cannot 
be  helped. " 

He  wondered  why  her  face  brightened  so  suddenly, 
why  she  looked  up  with  a  sudden,  glad  light  in  her 
eyes.  He  had  called  her  "dear"  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  and  he  had  done  it  quite  unconsciously.  The 
word  that  meant  so  much  to  her  was  less  than  noth- 
ing to  him. 

He  wondered  why  she  spoke  in  a  tone  through 
which  sweetest  music  seemed  to  vibrate. 

"I  shall  not  mind  it  at  all  now,"  she  said,  with  a 
warm  flush  on  her  face,  and,  having  no   key  to  her 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


335 


meaning,  the  earl  said  to  himself  that  women  were 
indeed  wonderful  creatures. 

He  would  have  thought  so  had  he  known  how  happy 
that  one  word  had  made  his  young  wife,  how  she 
gathered  it  into  her  heart  and  pondered  it,  how  she 
brooded  over  it  with  silent  happiness  that  could  not 
be  put  into  words;  and  he  did  not  even  know  that  he 
had  used  it.  He  would  have  said  the  same  to  a  friend 
or  a  child;  he  would  not  have  used  it  to  his  wife  if 
he  had  thought  of  it  or  noticed  what  he  was  saying, 
for  the  simple  reason  that  he  considered  any  tender 
words  between  people  who  never  could  love  each  other 
nonsense. 

With  a  light  heart  she  sent  out  her  invitations.  Sir 
Raoul  wondered  when  he  heard  her  singing  sweet 
snatches  of  song — wondered  with  a  sense  of  gratifica- 
tion. She  must  be  happier  than  she  had  been,  or  she 
would  not  be  so  light  of  heart. 

The  invitations  were  all  accepted,  and  due  prepara- 
tions were  made  for  receiving  the  beautiful  Lady 
Hamilton.  The  handsomest  suite  of  rooms  in  the  cas- 
tle was  set  aside  for  her;  there  was  an  air  of  expecta- 
tion, of  subdued  excitement,  that  did  not  quite  please 
the  young  mistress  of  Kavensmere.  When  the  earl 
had,  as  he  expressed  it,  time  to  think  the  matter  over, 
he  was  pleased — his  wife  perceived  it  in  many  ways. 
He  lingered  with  Sir  Raoul,  telling  anecdotes  of  Lady 
Hamilton  and  of  her  powers  of  fascination;  and  then 
Hildred  learned  that  they  had  been  lovers  when 
young.  Why  they  never  married,  why  their  love 
r.ame  to  nothing,  she  did  not  know.    If  anyone  had 


336 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


tried  to  explain  the  mystery  of  flirtation  to  her,  she 
would  not  have  understood  it.  That  people  could 
play  at  love  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  playing  at  it, 
that  it  was  possible  to  simulate  emotion  for  the 
mere  sake  of  enjoying  it,  she  did  not  understand. 
Life  was  full  of  reality  to  the  earnest,  high-souled 
woman  who  had  accepted  her  fate  with  heroism  worthy 
of  herself. 

"I  must  not  be  jealous  of  this  beautiful  Lady  Hamil- 
ton," she  thought— "but  it  is  almost  enough  to  make 
me." 

The  lovely  widow  was  to  arrive  in  time  for  dinner* 
That  was  one  of  Lady  Hamilton's  practices.  She 
liked  to  be  seen  first  in  the  full  glory  of  her  dinner- 
dress,  in  the  full  blaze  of  her  beauty.  She  lived 
solely  and  entirely  for  her  beauty,  and  for  the  homage 
it  brought  her.  If  she  had  been  suddenly  deprived  of 
it,  if  any  accident  had  robbed  her  of  it,  she  would 
have  been  without  a  single  occupation  in  life;  she 
lived  for  it,  she  studied  it.  What  would  suit  her, 
what  became  her,  what  attitude  showed  her  figure  to 
the  greatest  advantage,  what  pose  was  most  favorable 
to  the  display  of  her  graceful  neck,  what  jewels  looked 
best  on  the  golden  hair,  what  flowers  harmonized 
best  with  the  face  that  was  like  a  flower — this  was 
her  only  occupation.  She  worshiped  herself,  the  per- 
fection of  her  own  face.  It  was  no  idly-assumed  posi- 
tion; it  was  the  profound  study  of  her  life.  Never 
did  naturalist  spend  more  time  over  a  flower  than  she 
did  in  the  selection  of  a  dress  or  a  bonnet;  she 
brought  all  the  powers  of  her  mind  to  bear  upon  it 

m 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


337 


She  liked  to  hear  praise  of  her  beauty.  She  was  not 
in  the  least  flattered  when  anyone  called  her  clever  or 
intelligent — no  praise  of  her  wit  or  power  of  repartee 
ever  delighted  her.  She  liked  to  read  that  the  "beauti- 
ful  Lady  Hamilton"  had  been  at  such  a  ball — she  liked 
to  be  told  that  she  was  the  prettiest  woman  in  Lon- 
don. Moreover,  she  was  an  insatiable  coquette.  As 
for  really  loving  anyone,  she  had  never  done  such  ? 
thing.  Perhaps  the  nearest  approach  to  love  she  had 
ever  felt  was  the  kindly  feeling  she  had  had  for  the 
handsome  earl.  She  did  not  marry  him  because  he  did 
not  have  money  enough. 

She  was  a  dear  lover  of  luxury,  this  lovely  Lady 
Hamilton.  In  all  her  gay  life  of  twenty-three  sum- 
mers she  had  known  nothing  else.  She  wanted  jewels 
to  deck  her  loveliness,  she  wanted  magnificent  rooms, 
plenty  of  servants.  She  loved  light  and  perfume,  and 
flowers — she  had  all  the  tastes  of  a  refined  woman  of 
the  world.  She  liked  good  pictures,  rich,  picturesque 
dresses,  and  she  chose  from  her  lovers  the  one  who 
could  give  the  most  of  these  things.  That  was  Sir 
Gerald  Hamilton.  Certainly,  the  handsome  earl  was 
better  looking;  but,  then,  she  had  been  told  that  he 
was  in  embarrassed  circumstances.  She  married  Sir 
Gerald,  who  was  about  thirty  years  older  than  her- 
self. A  magnificent  appointment  had  been  offered  to 
him  in  India;  he  had  accepted  it,  and  Lady  Hamil- 
ton, because  she  knew  that  she  should  reign  supreme 
there,  went  with  him.  The  climate  did  not  suit  Sir 
Gerald;  he  died,  leaving  her  the  whole  of  his  fortune, 
and  Lady  Hamilton  returned  to  England,  more  beau- 


338 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


tiful,  more  charming,  more  coquettish  than  ever.  It 
was  said  of  her  that  no  man  could  resist  her,  and  that 
she  never  scrupled  as  to  winning  a  heart  or  breaking 
it,  if  only  to  pass  away  the  time. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 


"jealousy  is  as  bitter  as  death" 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  Lady  Hamil- 
ton was  expected.  Several  of  the  guests  invited  hac^ 
already  arrived,  and  the  Countess  of  Caraven  anxiously 
expected  her  visitor.  She  had  a  strange  kind  of  fore- 
boding about  her. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said  to  Sir  Raoul,  "if  some  people 
do  bring  misfortune  with  them.  I  have  an  idea  that 
Lady  Hamilton  will  bring  evil  to  me." 

Sir  Raoul  laughed,  and  told  her  in  his  simple, 
chivalrous  fashion  that  a  beautiful  woman  could  only 
bring  sunshine  and  happiness;  but  the  young  countess 
sighed. 

"Helen  of  Troy  did  not  bring  much  sunshine,"  she 
said,  "and  she  was  beautiful  enough." 

"But,"  objected  Sir  Raoul,  "there  is  a  difference; 
Lady  Hamilton  has  not  her  fatal  loveliness.  Times 
have  altered;  no  woman's  face,  I  think,  will  ever 
cause  another  thirty  years'  war." 

The  young  countess  resolved  upon  being  armed  at 
all  points.  Her  maid  felt  that  at  length  her  mistress 
was  doing  justice  to  herself.  She  was  that  evening 
very  difficult  to  please — no  dress  was  pretty  enough; 
she  chose  one  at  length  of  purple  velvet,  long,  grace- 
ful, and  made  after  a  picturesque  fashion  that  Hildred 

339 


34° 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


particularly  affected — cut  square  so  as  to  show  the  beau- 
tiful  neck  and  shoulders,  with  wide,  hanging  sleeves, 
fastened  with  a  diamond  knot  on  the  shoulder — a 
dress  that  was  the  triumph  of  good  taste;  no  ribbon, 
no  flowers,  no  ornaments  nor  trimmings  marred  its 
grand  simplicity.  She  wore  nothing  but  diamonds 
with  it — a  small  tiara  that  crowned  the  queenly  head, 
a  necklace  round  the  white  throat,  a  small  cross  on  the 
white  breast,  and  a  bracelet  on  one  of  her  beautifully- 
molded  arms.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  magnifi- 
cent, in  better  or  simpler  taste. 

Sir  Raoul  looked  delighted  when  he  saw  her. 

"Lady  Hamilton  may  be  very  fair,"  he  thought, 
"but  she  will  not  look  like  Hildred. " 

The  earl  did  not  notice  either  her  face  or  her  dress; 
he  admired  her  skill,  her  genius,  but  he  was  certainly 
not  in  love  with  his  young  wife. 

It  was  with  some  little  curiosity  that  the  young 
countess  went  to  meet  her  guest.  Lady  Hamilton  had 
been  shown  into  a  pretty  little  boudoir,  where  ihe 
awaited  her  hostess,  and  these  two  women,  who  were 
so  strangely  to  cross  each  other's  lives,  looked  almost 
eagerly  at  each  other. 

Lady  Caraven  saw  before  her  a  tall,  graceful,  lovely 
blonde,  whose  sunny  eyes  and  golden  hair  were  bright 
and  beautiful,  whose  red  lips  smiling  showed  teeth 
like  pearls.  After  returning  in  the  most  musical  voice 
the  greeting  of  her  hostess,  she  requested  that  she 
might  be  shown  to  her  room. 

She  was  in  some  measure  just  what  Lady  Caraven 
had  expected  to  see.    She  appeared  in  the  drawing- 


FROM  OUT  THE-  GLOOM 


341 


room  two  minutes  before  the  announcement  of  dinner 
was  made,  and  then  Hildred  examined  her  more  criti- 
cally. Her  entrance  made  a  sensation  among  the  gen- 
tlemen. Hildred  stood  watching  the  scene,  watching 
the  pretty  maneuvers  of  the  royally  beautiful  coquette, 
and  how  soon  they  took  effect. 

Examined  critically  there  was  no  defect  in  the  beauty 
of  Lady  Hamilton;  she  was  a  queen  of  blondes.  Her 
hair  had  a  golden  sheen;  it  was  soft,  fine,  and  hung 
in  waving  abundance.  It  was  such  hair  as  rumor 
gives  to  Berengaria,  of  whose  golden  tresses  a  chain 
was  made  for  a  sanctuary  lamp.  Her  complexion  was 
as  fair  as  the  leaf  of  a  lily,  with  the  daintiest  of 
bloom.  It  was  as  though  one  had  taken  a  rose-leaf 
and  laid  it  upon  her  cheeks.  It  was  all  nature,  not 
art;  art  could  not  have  produced  the  lovely  clear  pink 
that  deepened  into  rose.  Her  eyes  were  large,  blue, 
laughing  eyes  with  sunshine  in  their  depths,  with  long, 
black  lashes  that  gave  them  a  most  peculiar  effect, 
beautiful  and  fascinating.  The  loveliest  feature  in 
her  face  was  her  mouth;  it  was  the  mouth  of  a  god- 
dess, sweet  and  proud,  sensitive,  haughty,  perfect  iri 
color  and  shape.  Her  dress  was  as  beautiful  as  her- 
self— satin  of  such  pale  blue  that  it  was  almost  white, 
trimmed  with  a  profusion  of  white  lace.  She  had  a 
few  sprigs  of  heliotrope  in  her  dress,  of  which  flower 
she  was  fonder  than  any  other.  She  was  a  beautiful, 
smiling,  graceful  woman,  perfectly  well-bred,  perfectly- 
elegant,  perfectly  lovely.  When  she  smiled  it  was  as 
though  the  very  spirit  pf  love  had  found  a  home  in 
her  pretty  dimples. 


34« 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


Hildred  sighed  as  she  turned  away.  This  was  the 
kind  of  beauty  that  her  husband  loved — blonde,  tall, 
and  graceful.  She  was  fascinated  after  a  fashion. 
She  herself  was  no  coquette.  If  people  found  her 
charming  and  admired  her  that  was  theft  own  affair. 
She  cared  to  be  charming  only  to  her  husband.  She 
could  not  help  watching  Lady  Hamilton,  and  wonder- 
ing what  was  the  spell  that  she  cast  over  everyone. 
Every  gentleman  seemed  desirous  of  talking  to  her; 
there  was  quite  a  rivalry  between  them  as  to  which 
should  win  the  brightest  smiles;  and  she  had  a  way — 
Hildred  could  not  quite  understand  it — of  making  each 
person  think  that  he  in  particular  was  the  object  of 
her  special  attention.  How  did  she  manage  it?  She 
had  a  look  for  one,  a  smile  for  another,  a  sigh  for  the 
third;  one  held  her  fan,  another  her  flowers,  and  each 
flattered  himself  with  the  thought  that  he  alone  was 
the  happy  recipient  of  her  special  favor. 

Hildred  turned  to  look  at  the  face  of  Sir  Raoul. 
How  did  he,  whose  ideas  of  women  were  so  lofty, 
like  such  conduct?  She  saw  an  amused  smile  on  his 
lips.  She  looked  at  her  husband;  he  had  not  joined 
Lady  Hamilton's  circle  of  admirers,  and  she  felt  all 
the  happier  on  seeing  that. 

Later  on  in   the  evening   Sir  Raoul  came  to  her. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "how  do  you 
like  our  new  acquisition?" 

"She  is  just  what  I  thought  she  would  be,"  replied 
the  young  countess.  "Raoul,  hers  is  the  kind  of 
beauty  that  the  earl  loves." 

He  looked  at  the  noble  face. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


343 


"How  do  you  know  that?"  he  asked. 

"I  have  heard  him  say  so  very  often.  Do  you 
think  he  will  admire  her?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  frankly.  "Everyone  must 
admire  her.  She  is  like  a  picture  by  Greuze.  But  if 
you  ask  me  is  she  worth  any  expenditure  of  jealousy, 
I  answer  just  as  frankly,  No. " 

"I  am  not  jealous,"  returned  Hildred,  quickly. 
"Why  should  you  imagine  such  a  thing?" 

"I  do  not  say  that  I  imagine  it,  Hildred;  I  merely 
warn  you  against  it,"  answered  Sir  Raoul. 

""Of  all  people,"  cried  Hildred,  "those  that  are  logi- 
cal are  the  most  difficult  to  talk  with." 

"Let  us  be  thankful,  then,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  "that 
they  are  rare." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"Raoul,"  she  said,  "there  is  one  thing  that  I  have 
remarked  about  Lady  Hamilton." 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"She  has  been  here  nearly  six  hours;  but  I  have  not 
seen  her  talk  to  any  of  the  ladies.  When  we  went 
into  the  drawing-room  she  sought  the  most  comfort- 
able chair,  and  she  leaned  back  in  it  with  a  smile  at 
me.  'Traveling  always  fatigues  me/  she  said,  as  she 
closed  those  lovely  blue  eyes  of  hers;  and  do  you 
know  that  she  never  opened  them  again  until  the 
gentlemen  came  in!" 

"She  did  not  want  to  waste  her  words  and  smiles  on 
ladies,"  said  Sir  Raoul. 

"I  know  I  am  very  ignorant;  but  do  you  call  that 
£ood  breeding,  Sir  Raoul?" 


344 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"My  dear  Hildred,  a  woman  may  be  very  elegant, 
coquettish,  and  fascinating,  without  being  quite  what 
you  call  well  bred." 

"If  I  had  my  choice,"  said  Hildred,  "I  would  rather 
be  well  bred  than  beautiful." 

The  soldier  looked  at  the  noble,  unconscious  face. 

"What  would  you  say  if  I  told  you  that  you  were 
both?"  he  asked. 

She  laughed  a  rich,  musical,  joyous  laugh  that 
caused  Lady  Hamilton  to  raise  her  blue  eyes  to  see 
what  was  going  on.  She  smiled  sweetly,  as  though 
sympathizing  with  the  happy  laughter.  Then  she 
thought  to  herself  that  Sir  Raoul  was  a  very  distin- 
guished-looking man.  Could  it  be  possible  that  he 
was  flirting  with  Lady  Caraven? 

There  must  be  no  encroaching  on  her  privileges. 
No  one  must  monopolize  distinguished  men  like  Sir 
Raoul  when  she  was  present.  She  must  give  the 
dark-eyed  young  countess  a  lesson,  and  the  best  wa\ 
in  which  to  achieve  her  end  would  be  to  monopolize 
the  attention  of  the  handsome  earl. 

*  *  •*  *  *  * 

"Jealousy  is  as  bitter  as  death!"  The  words  haunt- 
ed  Lady  Caraven.  Was  she  jealous?  She  could  hardly 
tell.  Her  life  seemed  to  pass  in  a  fever  of  watching 
— to  be  filled  with  a  brooding  sense  of  something 
wrong,  of  something  hanging  over  her,  of  foreboding, 
she  knew  not  why.  She  only  knew  that  the  presence  of 
the  beautiful  blonde  Lady  Hamilton  was  a  source  of 
vague  torment  to  her. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


345 


She  was  always  apprehensive — she  could  hardly  tell 
of  what.  She  was  of  too  noble  a  disposition  willfully 
to  encourage  suspicion  of  anyone,  but  she  was  ever 
thinking  and  surmising  as  to  whether  her  husband 
admired  Lady  Hamilton  or  not.  There  were  times 
when  she  roused  herself,  and  said  to  herself  that  it 
was  unworthy  of  her — that  all  jealousy  and  suspicion 
was  miserable — that  she  would  rise  above  it,  and 
trample  it  under  foot.  Then  she  would  find  herself 
watching  her  husband's  face  to  see  how  it  lightened 
and  brightened  as  he  talked  to  Lady  Hamilton. 

She  read  a  very  sensible  story  one  day — a  story  of 
married  life — written  to  show  how  foolishly  wrong  and 
wicked  it  was  of  wives  ever  to  be  jealous — showing 
how,  if  a  woman  once  gave  her  mind  to  it,  she  could 
turn  almost  every  incident  in  her  husband's  life  to 
her  own  torment— how  she  could  be  miserable  over 
every  word  he  spoke,  every  look,  every  glance;  and 
Lady  Caraven  took  the  lesson  to  heart.  She  said  to 
herself  that  suspicion  and  jealousy  were  miserable 
failings — that  it  was  far  nobler  to  give  entire  and  per- 
fect trust,  to  rise  above  ignoble  suspicions,  to  despise 
wretched,  paltry  jealousies.  She  said  to  herself  that 
she  would  take  warning  by  the  story  she  had  read. 

But  her  case  was  different  from  that  of  other  wives. 
There  was,  perhaps,  in  all  the  wide  world  no  parallel 
to  it.  Lord  Caraven  she  had  married  without  the 
least  pretense  of  love,  he  detesting  the  marriage,  yet 
forced  into  it,  she  honestly  believing  it  was  quite  pos- 
sible to  live  without  love;  then  after  marriage  she  had 
been  as  he  was  now — profoundly,  coldly  indifferent. 


346 


FROM  OUT    CHE  GLOOM 


She  at  first  had  been  inclined  to  love  him — his  hand- 
some face  and  the  prestige  of  his  name  had  won  her 
girlish  fancy;  then  slowly,  as  her  woman's  soul  and 
better  nature  awoke,  she  discovered  his  faults — faults 
that  filled  her  with  something  like  despair.  Then 
came  the  turning-point  of  her  life — the  time  when 
she  felt  sorely  inclined  to  leave  Ravensmere — the  time 
when  the  noble  advice  of  a  noble  man  had  saved  her, 
had  roused  her  to  action,  had  influenced  her  so  as  to 
completely  change  her  life,  had  elevated  her,  had  given 
her  an  almost  sublime  idea  of  her  duties  and  respon- 
sibilities. She  had  risen  to  the  call;  she  had  devoted 
herself  to  the  welfare  of  her  husband;  she  had  used 
all  her  truest  womanly  tact,  all  her  rare  grace,  all  her 
intellect  and  talent,  to -rouse  him  from  his  evil  habits, 
from  his  self-indulgence,  from  his  neglect  of  every  duty. 
She  had  succeeded  even  beyond  her  hopes;  he  was 
above  the  average  now,  whereas  before  he  had  been 
below  it. 

The  consequence  was  that  she  loved  him.  After 
passing  through  every  phase  of  feeling,  after  being 
filled  with  admiration  that  grew  into  dislike,  indiffer- 
ence, contempt,  she  had  found  herself  at  last  in  love 
with  him. 

It  was  the  consciousness  of  that  which  made  her 
more  sensitively  jealous.  He  was  her  husband.  She 
loved  him,  but  he  did  not  love  her.  She  asked  her- 
self: "Will  he  ever  love  me?"  And  the  answer  that 
her  own  heart  gave  her  was  a  very  despairing  one, 
-  She  was  not  the  style  of  woman  that  he  admired.  He 
liked  blonde  beauty;  and  here,  under  their  very  roof> 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


341 


was  a  queen  of  blondes — a  queen  of  coquettes.  She 
would  look  sometimes  at  Lady  Hamilton  and  think: 
"How  he  must  wish  that  our  marriage  had  been  de- 
layed! If  Lady  Hamilton  had  returned  a  little 
earlier,  her  money  would  have  done  just  as  well  as 
mine,  and  he  would  have  loved  her." 

It  was  a  very  natural  thought,  but  one  that  made  her 
exceedingly  unhappy.  To  Lord  Caraven  himself  the 
idea  never  occurred,  He  had  his  faults — they  were 
not  on  the  score  of  immorality  or  impropriety.  He 
did  not  love  the  wife  fate  had  given  to  him,  but  he 
respected  her;  and,  in  some  fashion  of  his  own,  he 
respected  the  vague  kind  of  tie  that  there  was  between 
them.  At  all  events,  he  then  had  no  idea  of  outraging 
her  feelings  or  insulting  her  by  falling  in  love  with 
anyone  else. 

While  the  earl  enjoyed  the  presence  of  his  beauti- 
ful guest — enjoyed  her  coquetries,  laughed  and  was 
amused  at  her  flirtations,  all  in  sheer  idleness  and  good 
humor,  his  dark-eyed,  beautiful  wife  was  building  up 
a  theory  of  her  own,  and  it  was  that  her  husband  loved 
Lady  Hamilton. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

"the  two  ladies  were  rivals" 

The  grand  ball  in  honor  of  Lady  Hamilton  was  to 
be  given  at  Ravensmere  on  the  last  day  of  September. 
The  summer  weather  still  lingered;  flowers  that  should 
have  died  before  were  still  living,  birds  that  should 
long  since  have  sought  a  sunnier  clime  were  still 
singing.  On  the  evening  of  the  ball  a  bright  moon 
was  shining  in  a  clear  sky,  and  the  wind  was  sweet  as 
in  summer.  There  had  been  royal  entertainments  at 
Ravensmere,  but  none  had  ever  been  on  a  grander  or 
more  magnificent  scale  than  this  ball.  All  that  flowers, 
lights  and  superb  decorations  could  effect  was  effected. 
There  was  tier  after  tier  of  brilliant  bloom;  the  light 
of  a  thousand  tapers  made  a  brightness  greater  than 
that  of  day;  tiny  scented  fountains  rippled  among  the 
flowers.  It  was  a  magnificent  Spectacle;  and  of  that 
magnificent  fete  there  were  two  queens. 

At  the  opening  of  the  ball  they  stood  for  a  few 
moments  side  by  side;  and  then  opinion  varied  as  to 
which  was  the  more  beautiful.  The  Countess  of  Cara- 
ven  was  a  woman  of  stately  loveliness,  Lady  Hamilton 
of  fairy-like  beauty. 

'  The  countess,  who  had  some  vague  idea  that  this 
night  would  be  the  turning-point  in  her  destiny,  had 
devoted  much  time  and  thought  to  her  toilet.  Her 

348 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


349 


dress  was  of  some  shining  material  that  resembled 
cloth  of  gold;  the  rounded  arms  were  bare  to  the 
shoulder,  the  white  neck  and  throat  rising  like  a 
stately  flower  from  its  calyx.  The  golden  hue  of  the 
dress  enhanced  the  beauty  of  the  dark  eyes  and  hair; 
there  was  a  slight  flush  on  the  splendid  face,  a  deeper 
light  in  the  dark  eyes.  She  wore  a  suite  of  superb 
rubies;  they  lay  in  the  coils  of  dark  hair,  and  sparkled 
like  points  of  flame  on  the  white  breast ;  as  she  moved, 
the  light  scintillated  and  gleamed  in  the  rich  dress 
and  jewels. 

By  her  side  stood  her  rival  and  perfect  contrast — 
fair,  blonde  Lady  Hamilton — in  a  dress  of  pure  white 
— white,  with  green  leaves  and  flowers — and  with 
flowers  in  her  golden  hair — the  perfect  ideal  of  a 
fair,  graceful,  lovely  woman. 

As  they  stood  for  a  few  minutes  side  by  side,  all 
eyes  were  upon  them. 

The  ball  was  a  marvelous  success.  Lord  Darners, 
who  had  come  to  Ravensmere  purposely  for  it,  said 
that  he  had  never  seen  anything  like  it.  He  went  up 
to  the  earl,  who,  looking  very  handsome  in  his  even- 
ing dress,  was  watching  the  dancers. 

"Do  you  know,  Caraven,"  he  asked,  "who  is  the 
handsomest  woman  here?" 

The  earl  looked  round  with  a  smile. 

"Amid  so  many  how  can  I  decide?" 

"The  decision  does  not  require  a  minute's  hesita- 
tion," said  Lord  Darners.  "Look  round  and  you  will 
see  that  there  is  no  one  to  compare  with  your  own 
wife.  She  is  by  far  the  most  beautiful  woman  I  have 
ever  seen  in  my  life." 


35o 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


The  earl  looked  up  wonderingly. 

"Is  she?  Do  you  know  that  I  have  never  thought 
much  of  her  appearance?" 

"Then  you  have  been  blind.'  Look  at  her  now.' 

Lord  Caraven  looked  up.  He  saw  a  tall,  beautiful 
figure  and  a  magnificent  face  with  dark,  proud,  brill- 
iant eyes  and  a  lovely  mouth,  round  which  played  a 
half  grave,  sweet,  timorous  smile.  He  seemed  to  be 
impressed. 

"You  are  right,"  he  said;  "she  is  very  beautiful." 

"I  should  imagine  so,"  returned  Lord  Darners, 
emphatically.  "Why,  by  her  side  even  the  brilliant 
Lady  Hamilton  looks  faded.  Everyone  is  talking 
.about  your  wife;  you  do  not  know  how  many  men 
envy  you." 

Lord  Caraven  laughed  aloud.  Perhaps  if  the  world 
knew  all,  he  told  himself,  there  would  be  little  cause 

for  envy. 

"She  is  beautiful,"  he  repeated  to  himself.  He  had 
suddenly  awoke  to  the  knowledge  of  the  fact.  He 
said  to  himself  that  he  must  have  been  blind.  Had 
this  woman  been  any  other  than  his  wife  he  would 
have  thought  her  perfection.  As  he  looked  at  her  he 
wondered  that  he  had  ever  boasted  of  his  preference 
for  blondes.  What  could  compare  with  the  splendor 
of  those  dark  eyes,  the  exquisite  coloring  of  that 
noble  southern  face?  He  must  have  been  blind.  He 
crossed  the  room  to  where  the  young  countess  stood 
talking  to  Lady  Hamilton. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  simply,  "will  you  save  one 
dance  for  me?" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


351 


She  looked  at  the  pretty  tablets,  then  smiled  at 
him. 

"I  am  not  engaged  for  the  next  waltz,"  she  said. 

"Then  give  it  to  me,"  requested  the  earl;  and  the 
dark  eyes  were  raised  to  his.  "If  I  had  been  engaged 
I  should  have  felt  inclined  to  break  my  engagement," 
she  said. 

Lady  Hamilton  was  not  quite  pleased.  Two  suns 
could  not  shine  in  one  hemisphere,  and  if  Lady  Cara- 
ven  had  any  idea  of  outshining  her,  the  sooner  that 
idea  was  abandoned  the  better. 

"It  is  rather  odd,"  she  said,  with  one  of  her  bright- 
est smiles,  "to  see  husband  and  wife  waltz  together — 
one  wouli  imagine  you  were  still  lovers." 

Hildred  was  on  the  point  of  retorting  that  they  had 
never  yet  been  that  but  prudence  restrained  her. 

"You  will  not  forget  your  promise?"  said  the  earl. 

"For  the  waltz — no,"  she  replied. 

"Let  me  see  you  write  my  name,"  said  the  earl. 

And  Lady  Caraven  took  up  the  pretty  tablets  again. 

They  held  many  names.  Against  the  waltz  she 
wrote:  "My  husband." 

He  was  watching  her  intently,  and  when  she  had 
finished  writing  he  took  the  tablets  from  her  hand. 
How  strange  the  words  looked!  There  were  noble 
names  above  them,  noble  names  below  them. 

"My  husband."  He  wondered  why  she  had  not  writ- 
ten "Lord  Caraven,"  or  hiq  initials.  As  he  returned 
the  tablets  to  her  their  eyes  me'  in  a  long,  lingering 
glance.  Suddenly  she  turned  from  him  with  her  face 
on  fire,  and  Lord  Caraven,  with  a  strange  sensation  at 
his  heart,  began  talking  to  Lady  Hamilton. 


352 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"This  is  my  waltz,"  said  Lord  Caraven,  shortly  af- 
terward, as  he  came  up  to  his  wife. 

She  did  not  raise  her  eyes  to  his — she  was  afraid  to 
do  so.  What  if  they  should  tell  him  her  secret?  What 
if  he  should  read  love  for  himself  shining  in  their 
depths? 

The  earl  half  smiled,  half  sighed,  at  the  piquant 
strangeness  of  the  situation.  This  noble  woman,  to  the 
knowledge  of  whose  beauty  he  had  suddenly  awoke, 
was  his  own  wife.  They  had  spent  much  time  to- 
gether, both  sung  and  worked  together,  yet  he  never 
remembered  to  have  embraced  her;  now  his  arm  was 
round  the  supple,  graceful  figure — the  lovely  face  was 
close  to  his  own.  He  saw  before  him  the  whole  time, 
standing  out  clear  and  distinct  from  the  others,  the 
two  words,  "my  husband. " 

Lord  Darners  had  told  him  that  he  was  a  subject  of 
envy.  The  past  had  all  been  a  sorry  mistake.  How 
beautifully  this  neglected,  unloved  wife  of  his  danced! 
It  was  the  very  poetry  of  motion.  But — how  strange 
it  was  -  she  never  looked  at  him;  she  did  not  talk  or 
laugh;  she  seemed  rather  to  avoid   him,  as  it  were. 

"She  does  not  like  me,"  thought  the  earl;  "and  she 
has  no  little  reason."  He  was  frank  enough  to  own 
that.  The  dance  ended,  he  led  his  wife  to  a  seat,  an/ 
then  left  her  with  a  bow. 

She  was  never  quite  the  same  again.  As  it  needs  but 
a  small  match  to  fire  a  train  of  gunpowder,  so  it  need- 
ed but  a  little  to  awaken  her  love  into  keen,  quick, 
passionate  life.  That  one  dance  with  him  had  done  it 
She  loved  him  with  her  whole  heart,  and  the  sudden 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


353 


ness  with  which  that  conviction  flashed  over  her  be- 
wildered her.  She  sat  quite  still,  the  soft,  sweet  mu- 
sic, the  ripple  of  the  little  fountain,  the  subdued  mur- 
mur, all  mingling  in  her  ears — flowers,  lights,  jewels, 
fair  faces,  all  dazzling  her  eyes — and  she  said  to  her- 
self:— 

"I  love  my  husband." 

The  whole  world  seemed  changed  to  her.  Shyly, 
timidly,  she  looked  at  him.  He  was  talking  to  a  group 
of  ladies,  his  handsome  face  all  animation,  his  tall, 
well-built  figure  all  grace.  He  was  a  man  to  be  proud 
of — a  man  to  love.  But  he  must  never  know  about  this 
love  of  hers — this  newly-found,  precious  treasure.  He 
despised  her  for  her  want  of  noble  birth;  she  must 
keep  her  love  as  secret  as  the  grave. 

That  increased  the  distance  between  them.  She 
was  so  fearful  that  he  should  discover  her  secret,  so 
fearful  that  he  should  think  her  unwomanly,  so  afraid 
that  he  should  imagine  she  wanted  his  love,  that  she 
took  refuge  in  cold,  shy,  proud  avoidance.  There  were 
no  more  rides  or  drives  to  see  the  buildings  and  the 
improvements;  there  was  no  more  quiet  letter- writing 
in  the  library,  When  Lord  Caraven  wanted  Hildred 
she  had  some  gentle,  ready  excuse,  and  with  a  house 
full  of  visitors  it  was  difficult  to  determine  whether 
those  excuses  were  genuine  or  not.  But  from  the 
night  of  the  ball  everything  was  altered  between  them; 
Hildred  was  no  longer  the  devoted,  unselfish  wife 
who  studied  him  and  his  interests  above  everything 
else;  she  was  the  proud,  passionate,  tender  woman, who 
would  rather  have  died  than  let  him  know  that  she 
ioved  him  in  spite  of  his  neglect. 


354 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


In  consequence  of  this,  the  earl  was  thrown  more 
and  more  into  the  society  of  Lady  Hamilton.  His 
wife  declined  to  ride  with  him;  Lady  Hamilton  assured 
him  that  she  could  live  in  the  open  air.  His  wife  had 
no  time  to  discuss  his  letters;  Lady  Hamilton  assured 
him  that  there  was  nothing  she  liked  better  than  over- 
looking another  person's  correspondence.  His  wife 
never  asked  him  to  sing;  Lady  Hamilton  did  so,  and 
sat  listening,  and  looking  unutterable  things.  Lady 
Caraven's  shyness  was  her  opportunity.  Not  that  she 
for  a  moment  intended  to  make  any  mischief  between 
husband  and  wife,  or  that  she  was  in  love  with  Lord 
Caraven;  but  she  acted  as  she  did  simply  because  it 
was  her  practice  to  absorb  the  attention  and  engross 
the  interest  of  every  man  who  came  within  the  sphere 
of  her  attractions.  The  deeper  nature  of  the  nobler 
woman  did  not  recognize  this.  The  young  countess 
hid  her  love -as  she  had  hidden  her  jealousy;  but  it 
was  hard  to  bear. 

One  trait  more  than  any  other  convinced  her  that 
she  was  jealous  of  Lady  Hamilton.  She  had  until 
now  been  quite  indifferent;  all  the  world  might  know 
the  terms  on  which  she  and  her  husband  lived;  she 
had  not  cared  in  the  least  But  now  she  grew  morbidly 
anxious  that  this  golden-haired  beauty  should  never 
know  them.  She  could  not  tell  why,  but  she  would 
fain  have  made  Lady  Hamilton  believe  that  she  was 
happy,  that  her  husband  loved  her,  that  they  were 
united  and  agreed  as  other  husbands  and  wives.  She 
tormented  herself  by  wondering  what  Lady  Hamilton 
would  say  if  she  knew  the  true  state  of  the  case;  how 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


355 


the  sunny  blue  eyes  would  gleam  with  laughter,  how 
the  fair  face  would  flash  with  scorn!  Lady  Caraven 
said  to  herself  that  she  would  suffer  death  rather  than 
permit  the  story  of  her  unhappy  married  life  to  be 
known  to  her  rival.  Whenever  she  saw  her  husband 
talking  to  Lady  Hamilton  she  wondered  if  she  herself 
were  the  topic  of  conversation.  Instinctively  the  two 
ladies  were  rivals,  they  hardly  knew  why;  instinctively 
one  developed  a  dislike  of  the  other. 

There  was  no  one  to  warn  the  beautiful  young  count- 
ess that  she  was  yielding  to  a  terrible  fault  that  would 
bring  with  it  a  terrible  punishment.  Sir  Raoul  was 
not  well;  the  old  wound  pained  him  terribly,  and  there 
were  days  together  when  he  could  not  leave  his  room; 
so  that  Hildred  was  left  to  the  pain  of  her  love  and 
sorrow. 

Anything  rather  than  that  her  husband  should  find 
out  her  secret.  How  he  would  laugh  at  her!  The 
money-lender's  daughter  to  love  the  earl — the  neglect- 
ed wife  to  give  her  heart,  all  unasked,  all  unsought  for, 
to  her  husband!  She  felt  that  she  could  not  survive 
the  sneer.  He  should  not  know  it.  He  might  think 
her  capricious;  he  should  think  her  anything  but  infat- 
uated with  himself.  He  said  to  her  one  morning, 
laughingly: 

"Hildred,  the  days  of  our  pleasant  meetings  seem 
to  be  passed." 

She  made  him  some  evasive  answer  and  quitted  the 
room.  He  looked  thoughtfully  after  her.  What  had 
come  over  his  wife?  Had  she  grown  tired  of  her  devo- 
t'osi  to  him,  or  was  it  that  her  time  was  fully  occupied 


356 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


with  visitors?  It  was  not  a  matter  of  much  moment 
to  him;  he  did  not  spend  much  time  in  thinking  about 
her;  but  her  manner  slightly  puzzled  him. 

No  one  else  saw  anything  strange  in  her.  Sir  Raoul, 
who  would  have  read  her  thoughts  like  an  open  book, 
was  not  present.  To  the  others  Lady  Caraven  was 
simply  a  calm,  well-bred,  graceful  hostess.  No  one 
guessed  what  a  storm  of  anger  and  love,  of  jealousy 
and  pain,  warred  under  the  calm  exterior.  The  love 
would  have  been  easy  to  bear  if  the  jealousy  had  not 
been  there  to  poison  it. 

There  was  no  real  cause  for  it.  Lady  Hamilton  in- 
tended some  day  or  other  to  make  a  grand  coup — to 
marry  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  noblest  of  her  admirers. 
She  was  not  one  of  those  who  would  consider  the  world 
well  lost  for  love.  As  for  falling  in  love  with  a  mar- 
ried man,  she  would  never  have  dreamed  of  such  a 
thing — not  merely  because  it  was  wrong,  but  from  the 
simple  fact  that  it  was  a  waste  of  time.  But  the  young 
countess  did  not  think  of  these  things.  The  fever  in- 
creased in  her  veins — the  fire  in  her  heart.  Her  whole 
life  became  a  dream  of  watching  and  pain. 

He  did  not  love  her — he  never  would,  she  repeated 
over  and  over  again.  Could  it  be  that  he  would  love 
her  fair-haired  rival — the  blonde  beauty?  If  he  did, 
what  then?  She  was  powerless  to  help  herself.  She 
said  to  herself: 

"There  is  no  hope  now." 

In  her  dreams  it  had  occurred  to  her  that  she  might 
win  him  in  time.  Now  she  felt  that  hope  was  ended. 
And  the  young  Countess  of  Caraven— talented,  clever, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


357 


gifted  with  some  of  life's  greatest  gifts — cried  out 
that  her  pain  and  her  sorrow  were  more  than  she 
could  bear. 

Why  had  she  learned  to  love  him?  All  had  been 
well  until  then — his  neglect  had  not  pained  her,  his 
want  of  love  had  not  tortured  her.  She  had  not  cared 
in  the  least  who  knew  her  story  or  who  did  not. 
Now  all  that  had  gone.  With  the  sweet,  subtle  love 
that  had  entered  her  soul — she  hardly  knew  how — had 
come  a  whole  host  of  evils  and  sorrows. 

It  was  hard  to  go  about  her  daily  tasks — to  smile, 
to  talk,  to  look  as  though  no  sorrow  engrossed  her — 
but  Hildred  did  it.  Her  husband  found  out,  too,  quite 
by  accident,  that  she  rose  early  every  morning  in  or- 
der that  she  might  go  on  with  the  work  she  had  begun. 
Her  letters,  the  plans,  the  wants  of  the  tenants,  were 
all  attended  to  before  the  real  household  day  began. 
He  was  pleased  when  he  found  it  out;  it  was  part  of 
her  noble  character  to  be  true  to  her  purposes;  but  he 
never  dreamed  that  love  for  him  drove  sleep  from  her 
eyes,  as  it  had  already  driven  peace  from  her  heart — 
v   he  would  never  have  believed  it. 

So  they  went  on  through  the  bright  autumn  days, 
playing  at  cross-purposes,  each  believing  simply  and 
implicitly  in  the  dislike  of  the  other.  With  the  days 
her  love  grew  greater.  There  was  indeed  something 
most  loving  in  the  earl  now.  While  she  shunned  and 
avoided  him,  she  would  have  given  the  whole  world 
for  one  kindly  word,  for  one  loving  glance  from  him. 
She  watched  him  with  dim,  passionate  eyes. 

At  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  her  heart  throbbed, 


358 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


and  her  pulse  quickened  at  the  sound  of  his  voice. 
Her  whole  heart  went  out  to  him.  He  was.  her  hus- 
band, and  she  loved  him  with  a  wonderful  love  al- 
though she  showed  none  of  it. 

With  her  keen,  passionate  love  grew  her  jealousy. 
It  was  not  in  Lady  Hamilton's  nature  to  pass  by  the 
admiration  of  a  man  like  the  handsome  earl.  He  must 
admire  her.  Had  he  not  done  so  spontaneously,  she 
would  have  won  it  from  him.  All  homage  was  accept-' 
able  to  her— his  particularly  so,  because  he  was  a 
handsome  man,  and  because  he  had  a  beautiful,  dark- 
eyed  wife,  who  never  looked  quite  comfortable  when 
they  were  talking  together — two  little  incentives  which 
Lady  Hamilton  profited  by,  and  which  afforded  amuse- 
ment to  her.  What  to  her  was  nothing  but  sheer  mis- 
chief, sheer  love  of  admiration,  was  death  almost  to 
the  proud  young  wife,  who  counted  every  smile  that 
her  husband  gave  to  her. 

She  smiled  sadly  to  herself  one  day,  saying: 
"Now  I  know  the    meaning  of    the  words,  'I  have 
gone  mad — I  love  him — let  me  die. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

"HILDRED,  WERE  YOU    JEALOUS    OF  LADY  HAMILTON?" 

With  an  intolerable  sense  of  shame  and  disgrace,  it 
©uddenly  occurred  to  Lady  Caraven  that  her  lot  in  life 
was  quite  different  from  other  people's.  It  seemed  to 
pass  over  her  with  a  sudden,  terrible  commotion.  She 
had  been  so  occupied  before  with  her  efforts  as  regard- 
ed her  husband,  her  plans  of  reform,  her  schemes  for 
the  benefit  of  others,  that  she  had  not  given  much 
thought  to  her  own  position  as  a  wife  whose  husband 
made  no  pretense  of  loving  her.  The  knowledge  of 
her  real  status  came  to  her  now  with  a  keen  sense  of 
intolerable  pain,  yet  she  would  have  borne  its  bitterness 
but  for  the  fear  lest  the  brilliant,  beautiful  blonde 
should  become  as  wise  as  herself.  That  would  have 
been  intolerable. 

What  she  suffered  from  the  fear  of  her  rival  dis- 
covering her  secret  none  but  a  sensitive,  tender-heart- 
ed, neglected  woman  could  understand;  all  the  world 
might  know  rather  than  the  blue-eyed  coquette,  who 
would  smile  and  say  to  herself:  "His  wife  is  not  beau- 
tiful enough  to  charm  him."  That  would  be  intol- 
erable to  her.  Whenever  she  saw  her  husband  talking 
seriously  to  Lady  Hamilton,  she  imagined  that  he  was 
telling  the  story  of  his  unhappy  marriage.  She  watched 
him  incessantly;  if  he  went  anywhere  with  Lady  Ham- 

359 


360 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOto 


ilton,  she  not  only  contrived  to  be  of  the  party,  but 
also  to  be  near  them.  She  watched  their  faces  anx- 
iously, to  find  out  from  the  expression  if  it  were  of  her 
they  were  speaking.  Under  the  pain  of  this  silent, 
brooding  jealousy,  the  beautiful  face  grew  pale,  the 
dark  eyes  seemed  to  lose  their  light  and  brightness. 

A  trifling  circumstance  brought  Hildred's  jealousy 
to  a  climax.  The  earl  was  going  out  in  a  great  hurry 
one  morning,  when  he  found  that  the  button  of  his 
glove  was  hanging  by  a  thread.  Lady  Hamilton,  who 
was  engaged  on  some  kind  of  fancy  work,  with  needle 
and  silk  in  her  hands,  sat  by.  He  went  to  her  at  once. 

"Lady  Hamilton,  be  kind  to  me — give  this  one 
stitch." 

She  laughingly  complied;  she  would  not  let  him  re- 
move the  glove. 

"You  need  not  take  that  trouble,"  she  said;  "I  can 
do  it  as  it  is." 

With  a  pale  face  and  darkening  eyes  the  young 
countess  watched  the  little  scene.  Why  had  he  gone 
to  her  for  this  small  service?  Why  should  she  hold 
her  husband's  hand,  and  look  with  laughing  eyes  into 
his  face?  She  could  not  endure  it.  She  went  up  to 
them. 

"I  thank  you,  Lady  Hamilton,"  she  said;  "I  will 
do  that  for  Lord  Caraven." 

Lady  Hamilton  looked  up  in  amazement,  but  there 
was  something  in  the  young  countess*  face  which  made 
her  yield  at  once.    She  drew  back  coldly. 

"Lord  Caraven  asked  me  to  do  it,"  she  said. 

"In  all  probability  he  had  forgotten  that  I  was 
here,"  she  returned,  in  a  high,  clear  voice. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


The  earl,  like  a  prudent  man,  remained  quite  silent. 
He  looked  at  his  wife's  face  as  she  bent  over  the  glove 
and  he  saw  something  there,  that  shrewd  as  he  was, 
puzzled  him.  Why  was  she  so  pale?  What  was  it 
that  shone  and  gleamed  in  the  dark  eyes?  Why  did 
the  proud  lips  tremble?  What  was  in  her  face?  He 
gazed  in  silent  wonder.    She  had  finished. 

"That  button  will  not  come  off  again,"  she  declared. 

"I  hopd  not,"  said  Lady  Hamilton,  in  a  peculiar 
tone  of  voice;  "and,  if  it  does,  do  not  ask  me  to  help 
you  again,  Lord  Caraven. "  He  turned  away  with  a 
laugh,  but  the  mischief  was  done;  the  sight  of  her 
guest's  golden  head  bending  over  her  husband's  hand 
had  fanned  the  jealousy  of  the  young  wife  into  a 
flame — nor  did  what  followed  extinguish  it. 

The  earl  had  laughed  to  himself,  thinking  the  oc- 
currence a  pretty  bit  of  by-play.  He  was  smiling  still 
when,  an  hour  afterward,  his  wife  met  him. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  gay  banter,  "were 
you  jealous  of  Lady  Hamilton?" 

Then  the  idea  seemed  so  absurd  to  him  that  he 
laughed  aloud. 

To  his  surprise  she  grew  deadly  pale;  her  lips  quiv- 
ered with  emotion. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  bitterly,  "I  scorn  to  speak  falsely 
— I  was  jealous  of  her.  You  may  think  what  you  like 
of  me." 

Still  he  would  not  be  serious  about  it.  He  said, 
jestingly: 

"I  always  thought  until  now  that  jealousy  pre-sup- 
posed  love 


362 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Did  you?"  questioned  his  wife,  with  proud  indiffer- 
ence. "I  always  thought  love  pre-supposed  perfect 
trust." 

"You  are  a  good  fencer,  Hildred, "  laughed  her  hus- 
band; and  he  thought  no  more  of'  the  matter.  But 
she  did.  It  had  wanted  but  that  trifling  incident  to  fan 
her  jealousy  into  a  flame. 

How  the  hours  of  that  day  passed  she  never  knew. 
One  picture  filled  her  mind — that  of  Lady  Hamilton's 
golden  head  bending  over  her  husband's  hand.  She 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  it.  He  might  not  love 
her,  but  he  should  not  love  anyone  else.  He  should 
not  laugh  because  she  was  jealous,  he  should  not  ad- 
mire this  fair  woman  while  he  so  cruelly  neglected 
her.  She  worked  herself  into  a  frenzy  of  jealous  de- 
spair, yet  was  outwardly  calm  and  proud  as  usual. 

The  dinner-party  at  the  castle  on  that  day  was  not 
a  large  one;  many  of  the  guests  had  left;  Lord  and 
Lady  Darners  had  returned  home.  Sir  Raoul  was  in 
his  room.  Lady  Caraven  had  dressed  herself  with  un- 
usual care  and  attention.  She  wore  a  beautiful  dress 
of  amber  satin  and  black  lace  which  suited  her  dark 
brunette  loveliness.  She  wore  her  favorite  suite  of  ru- 
bies— rubies  that  had  in  them  a  light  like  deepest 
flame.  A  grandly  beautiful  woman  she  looked  as  she 
took  her  seat  at  the  dinner-table. 

During  dinner  she  watched  her  husband  and  Lady 
Hamilton.  More  than  once  she  saw  them  laughing 
and  heard  them  talking  merrily.  Was  it  of  her?  Was 
the  earl  telling  her  that  his  wife  was  jealous?  And 
was  she  laughing  because  the  very  cream  of  the  jest 
was  that  her  husband  did  not  care  for  her? 


l*OM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


363 


Then  she  grew  ashamed  of  herself.  Such  suspi- 
cions were  unworthy  of  her.  She  tried  to  banish  them, 
but  they  were  too  strong  for  her.  Whenever  the  gold- 
en head  stirred,  whenever  the  sweet  sound  of  musical 
laughter  came  to  her,  she  fancied  that  she  was  the 
subject  of  the  jest,  until  her  jealous  pain  grew  intol- 
erable and  she  could  bear  it  no  longer.  It  was  a  re- 
lief to  her  when  she  could  give  the  signal  and  the  la- 
dies could  withdraw.  She  wanted  to  be  alone  to  think. 

For  the  convenience  of  one  of  the  guests  who 
was  leaving  they  had  dined  a  little  earlier  than  usual. 
When  the- ladies  reached  the  drawing-room,  the  room 
was  filled  with  ruddy  light  from  the  sun  setting  in  the 
western  sky.  It  would  be  cruel,  they  said,  to  spend 
such  a  warm,  lovely  evening  indoors.  The  gentlemen, 
thinking  the  same  thing,  had  hurried  from  their  wine, 
saying  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to  lose  the  last  gleam 
of  sunlight. 

"Let  us  gather  the  roses  while  we  may,"  sang  Lord 
Caraven,  in  his  rich,  ringing  tenor. 

But  before  they  went  out  someone  prayed  the  earl 
to  sing  one  song. 

"I  will  sing  a  duet,"  he  said,  "if J  Lady  Hamilton 
will  help  me." 

It  was  useless,  he  thought,  appealing  to  his  wife. 
The  last  time  he  had  asked  her  to  sing  with  him  she 
had  refused. 

Lady  Hamilton  was  only  too  pleased.  She  went  to 
the  piano,  and  very  soon  the  two  beautiful  voices 
seemed  to  fill  the  room — Lady  Hamilton's  clear  and 
sweet,  the  earl's  rich  and  musical — while  the  young 


364 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


countess  watched  them  with  longing,  pitiful  eyes. 
They  were  singing  about  love,  love  that  would  never 
die,  love  that  was  immortal. 

More  than  once  the  unhappy  young  wife  saw  the 
widow  look  at  her  husband;  more  than  once  there 
came  to  her  a  wild  impulse,  a  longing  to  strike  the 
fair  face.  When  the  song  was  over  it  was  time  to  go 
and  watch  the  sunset.  Hildred  saw  that  her  husband 
did  not  leave  Lady  Hamilton's  side.  He  remained 
near  her,  saying: 

"We  will  watch  the  sun  set  over  the  lake.  It  is  one 
of  the  prettiest  sights  of  Ravensmere. " 

She  did  not  hear  Lady  Hamilton's  answer;  it  was 
given  with  smiling  lips  and  laughing  eyes.  Was  it  her 
morbid  fancy,  or  did  she  really  hear  her  husband  say, 
"Yes,  and  I  will  tell  you  the  story  of  my  marriage?" 

She  did  not  wait  to  ask  herself  if  it  were  mere  fan- 
cy. She  believed  that  she  had  heard  it,  and  the  idea 
of  it  drove  her  almost  mad.  They  were  going  to  watch 
the  sun  fade  among  the  flowers,  and  the  earl  would 
meanwhile  entertain  his  companion  with  the  story  of 
his  marriage — how  he  had  to  wed  the  money-lender's 
daughter,  or  else  lose  Ravensmere,  but  how  he  had 
avenged  himself  by  neglecting  her.  Hildred's  heart 
and  brain  were  on  fire.  The  husband  she  loved  despite 
his  neglect  and  the  rival  whom  she  had  disliked  were 
going  to  laugh  over  her  together.  An  idea  suddenly 
occurred  to  the  unhappy  wife — they  should  not  do  this, 
they  should  not  laugh  at  her;  her  love  and  her  jeal- 
ousy should  not  be  sport  for  them.  She  would  follow 
them  unpercei^ed,  and  then,  when  they  began  to  laugh 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


365 


over  her  story,  she  would  confront  them,  and  dare 
them  to  amuse  themselves  with  her  anguish.  All  the 
pride  of  her  nature  was  aroused.  She  would  suffer 
death  rather  than  be  laughed  at  by  her  husband  and 
her  rival. 

She  was  bewildered — not  herself. 

She  had  never  been  herself  from  the  moment  in 
which  she  recognized  the  fact  that  she  loved  her  hus- 
band with  all  the  strength  and  passion  of  her  nature. 
She  was  bewildered  by  the  pain  of  her  love  and  the 
smart  of  her  jealousy.  The  only  idea  quite  clear  to 
her  mind  was  that  her  husband  and  his  guest  should 
not  laugh  at  her. 

When  the  idea  of  going  out  had  first  been  men- 
tioned, she  had  sent  for  a  scarf,  and  it  lay  upon  a 
couch  now,  a  glittering  mass  of  silvery  gauze.  She 
saw  her  husband  take  it  up. 

"Whose  is  this?"  he  asked;  and  no  one  answered. 
"It  is  very  pretty,"  he  added;  "and,  if  it  has  no  owner, 
you  shall  have  it,  Lady  Hamilton." 

The  young  countess  did  not  step  forward  to  claim 
it:  she  saw  her  husband  throw  it  over  the  pearly 
shoulders  and  the  white  neck,  and  Lady  Hamilton 
look  up  at  him  with  a  coquettish  laugh. 

"Evidently,"  she  said,  "you  are  quite  ignorant  of  the 
tashion  in  which  ladies  now  wear  scarfs.  Our  great- 
grandmothers  drew  them  tightly  stretched  across  the 
shoulders — we  like  them  in  this  fashion." 

Raising  her  arm,  she  wound  the  silvery  gauze  round 
her  head  and  neck  and  arms,  shading  the  bright  face, 
ana  making  her  look  so  piquantly  beautiful  that  Lord 
Caraven  cried  out  in  admiration. 


366 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"That  is  capital/'  he  said — "ladies  always  know 
what  is  picturesque." 

The  young  countess  saw  them  "  quit  the  room  to- 
gether. She  resolved  upon  following  them.  She  heard 
her  husband  say,  laughingly,  to  his  companion: 

"We  will  go  straight  to  the  lake — I  want  you  to 
watch  the  sunset  there." 

Lady  Caraven  delayed  only  a  few  moments — it  was 
to  go  to  he'r  room  for  a  large  dark  shawl  that  should 
hide  her — hide  the  amber  satin  and  rich  black  lace — 
hide  her  face  and  head,  so  that  anyone  meeting  her 
should  quite  fail  to  recognize  her.  "Creeping  along 
in  the  dark,  who  will  know  me?  Or,  if  they  know  me, 
who  will  care  for  me?"  she  said  to  herself. 

When  she  reached  her  room  she  found  a  message 
there  from  Sir  Raoul,  asking  if  she  would  go  to  his 
apartments  for  a  short  time.  She  said  to  herself  "No;" 
with  her  heart  and  soul  in  a  ferment,  she  could  not 
talk  to  Sir  Raoul.  She  had  a  dim  idea  that  what  she 
was  about  to  do  was  wrong,  undignified,  ungenerous. 
She  could  not  have  persevered  in  her  purpose  had  she 
looked  but  once  in  the  calm,  noble  face  of  the  man  who 
wanted  her  to  be  a  heroine. 

"Tell  Sir  Raoul  that  I  am  engaged  just  at  present, 
but  that  I  will  see  him  later  on  in  the  evening,"  she 
said. 

She  sent  him  some  books  and  flowers — she  did  not 
go  to  him. 

"Later  on  in  the  evening.  " 

She  had  said  the  words  quite  thoughtlessly;  they 
returned  to  her  afterward  with  keen  pain.    She  was 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


367 


reckless  as  to  what  followed;  as  to  whether  her  hus- 
band would  be  angry  or  not  she  was  indifferent.  The 
only  thing  was  that  she  had  resolved  upon  preventing 
her  husband  and  her  rival  from  jesting  about  her; 
that  should  never  be. 

She  went  round  by  the  postern  door,  and  in  the  dis- 
tance she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  white  dress  and  the 
silver  veil.  It  was  a  most  peculiar  night.  At  any 
other  time  she  would  have  been  lost  in  wonder  and 
delight — now  she  took  no  heed.  The  earth  seemed  to 
be  growing  dark  while  the  light  lingered  in  the  sky; 
masses  of  crimson  clouds,  edged  with  purple  and  gold, 
appeared  to  be  making  a  bed  for  the  sun  to  lie  on;  the 
roseate  light  seemed  to  linger;  among  the  trees  and 
flowers  silence  reigned  unbroken;  in  the  far  distance 
the  waters  of  the  lake  shone  like  crimson  and  gold.  It 
was  one  of  those  nights  when  the  darkness  seems  to 
come  on  in  a  few  minutes — when  it  descends  swiftly 
and  suddenly,  as  though  the  sky  were  falling  and  cov- 
ering the  earth.  There  was  such  deep  silence  among 
the  trees  as  she  went  gently  along  that  it  seemed  to' 
Hildred's  excited  fancy  as  though  this  were  a  mystical 
night  holding  strange  secrets  and  strange  meaning. 

To  think  that  her  husband  did  not  recognize  that 
silver  veil  as  hers!  She  had  worn  it  ever  since  she 
had  been  at  Ravensmere;  there  was  not  a  servant  about 
the  place  who  would  not  have  recognized  it  in  a  min- 
ute; whereas  her  husband  did  not  even  know  to  whom 
it  belonged. 

"That  proves  what  little  notice  be  has  bestowed  on 
me/'  she  thought  bitterly. 


368 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


The  grounds  of  Ravensmere  were  so  well  wooded 
that  behind  the  safe  shelter  of  the  tall  trees  she  could 
walk  quite  unseen  by  the  earl  and  his  companion.  The 
sweet  southern  wind  that  scarcely  stirred  the  leaves 
brought  to  her  from  time  to  time  chance  words,  but 
none  qf  them  were  of  her.  She  did  not  want  to  listen 
to  their  conversation;  she  only  wished  to  prevent  the 
story  of  her  marriage  from  being  told.  Sometimes  the 
low,  muscial  laughter  of  Lady  Hamilton  reached  her, 
and  then  the  rich  ring  of  her  husband's  voice  would 
sound  cheerily  in  the  gathering  gloom;  and  all 
the  time  she,  his  wife,  was  slowly  threading  her  way 
after  him,  like  the  shadow  of  fate. 

There  had  not  been  one  word  of  her  yet — the  conver* 
sation  had  all  been  about  people  they  had  known 
years  before;  and  now  they  stood  on  the  borders  of  the 
lake,  where  the  crimson  waters,  to  the  dazed  mind  of 
the  young  countess,  looked  like  blood.  She  shud- 
dered as  the  idea  occurred  to  her.  Some  of  the  crim- 
son glow  fell  on  the  white  dress  and  on  the  silken  veil. . 
She  saw  Lady  Hamilton  hold  out  her  little  white 
hand,  and  cry,  gleefully: 

"Look,  Lord  Caraven — my  hand  is  dyed  red!" 

They  had  not  spoken  of  her.  The  red  sun  was 
fast  descending. 

"This  is  what  I  wish  you  to  see,"  said  the  earl. 
"The  moment  in  which  the  sun  seems  to  touch  the 
water,  a  red  gleam  passes  through  it,  then  the  next 
moment  it  is  quite  dark." 

They  watched  in  silence,  while  the  dark  figure  stood 
motionless  and  still  behind  them,    The  sun,  as  it  set, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


369 


seemed  to  touch  the  outer  edge  of  the  lake;  a  red 
gleam  came  over  it,  beautiful  _and  curious,  and  then, 
almost  at  once,  it  was  dark. 

"We  will  go  home  by  the  coppice,  '  said  Lord  Cara- 
ven;  and  his  wife  remembered  that  the  long  avenue 
of  trees  extended  to  the  very  gate.  She  could  there- 
fore walk  almost  side  by  side  with  them,  yet  quite  un- 
seen. 

They  had  not  mentioned  her  name.  Could  she  have 
been  wrong  in  her  suspicion?  Had  she  mistaken  her 
husband's  words? 

They  were  standing  at  the  edge  of  the  lake — a  cold 
dark  sheet  of  water  now — and  she  established  herself 
behind  a  group  of  alder-trees.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
the  silver  veil  on  the  fair  woman's  head  and  shoulders 
absorbed  all  the  light  there  was.  Presently  she  drew 
near.  Another  group  of  trees  separated  her  from  the  two 
who  were  so  unconscious. of  her  presence — large  trees 
with  swaying  branches;  through  them  the  night-wind 
brought  every  word  to  her.  They  talked  only  of  the 
light  on  the  water,  and  the  sudden  darkness  there — of 
someone  who  had  known  and  loved  Lady  Hamilton 
before  her  marriage.  She  laughed  coquettishly  over 
it. 

How  long  was  that  nonsense  to  last,  the  unhappy 
young  wife  asked  herself.  How  long  was  she  to  stand 
under  the  darkening  evening  skies,  with  the  great  al- 
der-branches swaying  to  and  fro,  the  soughing  of  the 
wind  in  her  ears,  the  fire  of  love,  the  madness  of  jeal- 
ousy raging  in  her  heart — how  long?  It  was  almost 
unbearable.    She  felt  "inclined  to  cry  out  that  it  must 


370 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


end.  She  clinched  her  fingers,  she  bit  her  lip;  then 
suddenly  she  heard  the  sound  of  her  name,  her  maiden 
name,  "Hildred  Ransome!"  What  were  chey  saying? 
Was  the  earl  telling  how  he  had  been  compelled  to 
encumber  himself  with  a  wife  he  did  not  love?  Was 
he  saying  that,  although  he  did  not  love  her  and  they 
were  strangers  to  each  other,  she  car^d  tor  him?  Was 
he  laughing  because  she  had  owned  ihat  she  was  jeal- 
ous of  him? 

"I  cannot  bear  it!"  she  thought. 

The  next  moment  there  was  a  sound  of  a  shot- 
something  seemed  to  rattle  through  the  alder-branches 
— there  was  a  low  cry,  a  startled  exclamation. 

"There  are  poachers  in  the  wood,  "she  thought;  "he 
will  go  in  search  of  them,  and  then  he  will  find  me!" 

She  turned  to  fly;  now  that  there  was  the  danger  of 
being  caught  she  seemed  to  wake  to  a  full  conscious- 
ness of  what  she  was  doing;  the  bare  fact  that  she 
was  listening  seemed  to  come  to  her  ar  it  had  never 
done  before.  She  turned  to  fly;  not  for  anything  that 
could  be  given  would  she  be  caught  there.  She  wanted 
to  hasten,  but  she  could  not;  it  was  as  though  great 
weights  of  lead  were  fastened  to  her  feet.  Her  brain 
was  dizzy;  the  unusual  excitement,  the  frenzy  of  love 
and  jealousy,  had  been  too  much  for  her;  her  tall, 
graceful  figure  swayed  for  a  minute  like  a  leaf  in  the 
wind,  a  low  moan  came  from  her  lips,  and  then,  as  in 
a  dream,  the  white,  angry  face  of  her  husband  was 
looking  into  hers,  and  he  had  grasped  her  ana  in  a 
hard,  cruel  grasp. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 


"speaking  to  vou  across  a  grave  where  my  love  lies 

— SLAIN  I w 

Near  the  lake,  across  which  the  last  red  glimmer  of 
the  sunset  had  faded,  husband  and  wife  stood  for  one 
moment  beneath  the  darkening  sky,  looking  at  each 
other.  Lord  Caravels  face  was  ghastly  white,  and 
unknown,  untold  horror  lay  in  his  eyes,  his  lips  trem-. 
bled  with  uncontrollable  emotion;  Hildred — pale,  ter- 
rified, wondering — gazed  at  him  like  one  fascinated. 

"What  is  it?"  she  gasped. 

"You  guilty  woman,"  cried  the  earl — Myou  cruel, 
guilty,  jealous  woman!" 

She  shrank  back  as  though  he  had  struck  her — her 
lips  parted  as  though  she  would  speak,  but  all  sound 
died  away  on  them. 

"You  guilty  woman,"  repeated  the  earl,  "own  the 
truth!  You  followed  Lady  Hamilton  and  me  here  to 
watch,  to  listen.  Speak!" 

"May  heaven  pardon  me,  I  did!"  she  moaned. 

"Here  you  must  remain.  I  shall  know  where  to 
find  you,  crouching  at  the  end  of  the  alder-trees,  where 
you  hid  yourself  to  listen  to  your  husband  and  his 
guest.  Great  heaven!  that  a  spy  should  bear  my 
name!  Stay  here  until  I  return.  If  you  attempt  to 
escape  I  will  send  the  whole  county  after  you.  And 

371 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


I  was  beginning  to  care  for  you — to  think  you  a  no- 
ble woman!" 

She  shrank  cowering  from  him.  His  angry  face,  the 
anger  that  shone  in  his  eyes,  the  stern  voice,  frightened 
her.  She  shrank  lower  and  lower,  until  she  fell  on 
her  knees,  sobbing  as  though  her  heart  would  break. 

''Stir  at  your  peril!"  he  said,  and  then  he  left  her. 

For  some  minutes  afterward  she  heard  sounds  on 
the  borders  of  the  lake — murmured  sounds,  as  of  in- 
tense pity  and  compassion,  followed*  by  the  tramp  of 
many  footsteps,  and  then  all  was  still. 

The  ground  was  covered  with  dead  and  dying  leaves. 
Lady  Caraven  flung  herself  down  upon  them,  and  as 
she  lay  there  the  old  words  came  to  her:  "Let  me 
die!"    Death  would  have  been  mercy. 

What  did  it  all  mean?  She  had  forgotten  all  about 
the  shot  she  believed  the  poachers  to  have  fired  in 
the  woods — it  had  not  dwelt  for  one  moment  in  her 
mind.  She  was  in  a  maze  of  doubt,  difficulty  and  de- 
spair, 

What  did  he  mean?  If  she  attempted  to  escape  he 
would  send  the  whole  county  after  her.  Surely  she 
had  not  merited  such  threats.  Surely  she  had  not  de- 
served language  that  he  might  have  used  toward  a  mur- 
derer, but  which  came  strangely  enough  to  his  wife. 
He  had  discovered  that  she  loved  him,  that  she  was 
jealous,  that  she  had  followed  him  for  the  sake  of 
watching  and  listening  to  him ;  but  surely  that  was 
not  enough  to  call  out  the  whole  county  to  pursue  her. 

He  had  called  her  guilty.  She  had  owned  that  she 
was.    Ah!   dear  heaven,  if  she  had  but  died  when  a 


FROM   OUT  THE  GLOOM 


373 


child  in  her  mother's  arms!  He  had  called  her  cruel; 
that  she  was  not,  for  she  would  never  have  voluntarily 
hurt  even  a  worm.  Why  was  she  to  remain  there — 
to  move  at  her  peril?    What  did  it  mean? 

The  golden  stars  came  out  in  the  sky.  Was  it  really 
herself,  or  was  she  dreaming?  Was  she  Hildred,  the 
beautiful,  popular  Countess  of  Caraven,  lying  there 
in  all  the  abandonment  of  her  misery,  her  husband's 
angry  voice  in  her  ears,  the  marks  of  his  angry  grasp 
on  her  arm?  Offcast,  wretched,  despairing,  there 
was  only  one  friend  for  her  in  the  world,  and  that  was 
Sir  Raoul;  if  she  could  but  see  him,  if  she  could  but 
tell  him!  The  pitiless  night  hid  her  from  all  eyes. 
Surely  there  had  never  been  a  night  so  full  of  pain. 

How  long  she  had  been  lying  there  she  never  knew. 
Time  was  all  ended  for  her.  She  was  conscious  only 
of  infinite  misery.  She  did  not  even  feel  the  chill 
breath  of  the  wind  as  it  passed  o^er  her. 

Then,  after  what  seemed  to  her  an  age  of  suspense 
and  agony,  she  heard  footsteps  amid  the  brushwood, 
and  Lord  Caraven  calling  hsr  by  name. 

"I  am  here,"  she  said. 

In  the  thick  growing  darkness  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  he  discovered  her.  He  saw  her  at  length  with 
her  face  hidden  among  the  dead  leaves. 

"You  may  rise  and  thank  heaven,"  he  said,  in  a 
stern  voice,  "that  you  have  not  succeeded;  the  evil  is 
not  so  great  as  it  might  have  been." 

She  rose  and  stood  before  him,  the  same  dazed  look 
on  her  face. 

"I  do  not  understand — you  say  such  hard,  such  crurl 
things,"  she  moaned. 


374 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Hard  and  cruel,"  repeated  her  husband,  with  bitter 
contempt;  "did  ever  a  woman  live  so  cruel  as  you?" 

"I  am  not  cruel,"  she  replied.  "I  have  been  driven 
mad." 

There  was  such  infinite  sadness  in  the  young  voice, 
such  dreary  despair  in  the  young  face,  that  he  was 
touched  in  spite  of  his  anger  and  contempt. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  "what  made  you  do  this  thing 
— this  cruel,   ungenerous,  unwomanly  deed?" 

She  thought  he  referred  to  her  conduct  in  following 
him,  and  they  seemed  to  her  hard  words. 

"What  made  me  do  it?  You  will  only  despise  and 
hate  me  the  more  if  I  tell  you,"  she  replied. 

"Frankly  speaking,  Hildred,  nothing  that  you  can 
say  to  me  will  make  the  matter  worse,  but  it  may  cer- 
tainly be  made  better.     Tell  me  the  plain  truth." 

"Yes,  I  will  tell  you,"  she  replied.  "I  see  that  all 
good  understanding  i$  at  an  end  between  us. " 

"That  is  quite  certain,"  he  said,  with  emphasis; 
"with  my  consent  you  shall  never  enter  my  doors 
again. " 

"Have  I  acted  so  very  wrong?"  she  asked  sadly. 

"Wrong!"  he  exclaimed,  contemptuously.  "We  will 
waive  that,  Hildred.  You  have  done  that  which  I  can 
never  pardon.  Now  tell  me  why  you  did  it.  You  may 
speak  the  truth  to  me;  you  bear  my  name,  I  will 
shield  you  from  all  harm.  No  one  knows  but  myself." 

"Then  she  did  not  see  me?"  said  Hildred,  drearily. 

"No — and  you  may  be  thankful  for  it,"  answered 
the  earl,  severely.  "She  did  not  see  you.  You  may 
speak  quite  frankly — no  one  knows  anything  about  i{ 
except  myself.  Now  tell  me«" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


375 


"What  have  I  to  tell  you?"  she  said.  "I  did  it;  I 
followed  you  here  because — oh,  how  hard  it  is  to  tell! 
— because  I  was  jealous  of  her.  I  thought  that  you 
both  were  ridiculing  me,  that  you  would  tell  her  that 
you  had  been  obliged  to  marry  me  to  save  yourself 
from  ruin,  but  that  you  did  not  love  me,  you  did  not 
care  for  me,  you  disliked  me,  you  hated  me,  you 
longed  to  be  free  from  me — my  accursed  money  was  all 
you  wanted — that  you  would  never  like  me.  And  I 
fancied  she  would  pity  you,  in  that  soft,  caressing  voice 
of  hers — pity  you  for  being  burdened  with  a  wife  you 
did  not  love.  I  believed  that  you  would  tell  her  that 
I  was  jealous  of  her,  that  then  both  of  you  would 
laugh  at  me. " 

The  passion  of  her  words  had  deadened  all  sense  of 
shame.  She  had  forgotten  that  which  her  jealousy  had 
prompted  her  to  do,  and  remembered  her  great,  bitter 
wrongs.  She  was  no  longer  a  heroine — only  a  passion- 
ate, injured,  deeply-loving  woman.  She  rose  to  the 
occasion. 

The  earl  was  impressed  more  than  he  would  have 
cared  to  own. 

*I  could  not  bear  it,"  she  continued,  passionately. 
"I  should  have  done  worse  than  this,  I  am  sure, 
if  it  could  have  been  done.  I  was  mad.  I  will  tell 
you  all.  I  was  mad,  because  I  had  learned  to  love 
you  with  all  the  strength  of  my  heart  and  soul.  I  could 
not  bear  that  you  should  jest  about  me  with  careless 
words;  it  was  as  though  you  had  stabbed  me  for  pleas- 
ure. M 

"You  love  me?"  he  interrogated,  incredulously. 


376 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


The  dark  shawl  fell  from  her,  and  she  stooi  erect 
before  him  in  all  the  dignity  of  her  pale,  passionate 
beauty.  Her  amber  dress  and  her  rubies  gleamed  in 
the  starlight;  the  queenly  head  was  held  aloft;  she  no 
longer  pleaded  and  wept;  the  memory  of  her  passion- 
ate love  and  her  bitter  wrongs  filled  her  with  angry 
pride. 

"Yes,  I  love  you,"  she  continued,  proudly.  "Whose 
is  the  sin?  Is  it  mine  because  I,  your  wife,  have  to 
tell  you  this,  and  you  feel  surprised?  I  love  you;  ana 
now  that  I  have  to  leave  you,  I  tell  you  that  woman 
never  loved  man,  wife  never  loved  husband  more 
dearly,  more  deeply,  more  devotedly,  than  I  love  you. 
I  would  have  devoted  my  life  to  you;  I  would  have 
died  for  you;  every  beat  of  my  heart,  every  thought 
of  my  mind,  every  action  was  for  you.  I  love  you  as 
Elaine  loved  the  knight  of  old  when  she  said: 

"'I  have  gone  mad — I  love  you — let  me  dieI,M 

She  drew  nearer  to  him. 

"I  love  you  as  no  one  else  ever  will — as  no  woman 
has  ever  loved  you;  partly  because  I  could  not  help 
loving  you  and  partly  because  I  have  helped  to  awaken 
the  better  nature  within  you.  You  may  live  many 
years,  happy,  flattered,  but  no  love  like  mine  will  ever 
reach  you;  the  wife  you  are  sending  from  you  is  the 
dearest  and  truest  friend  you  have." 

He  looked  terribly  distressed. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  before,  Hildred?"  he 
asked. 

"I  tell  you?    How  little  you  know  me!    Was  it  my 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


377 


place  to  go  to  the  husband  who  neglected  me  and 
plead  for  his  caresses — for  his  love?  I  would  have  died 
a  thousand  deaths  first.  How  little  you  know  me!  I 
should  not  tell  you  all  this  now,  but  that  I  know  in 
this  world  we  shall  never  perhaps  meet  again.  I  am 
speaking  to  you  across  a  grave.  I  stretch  out  my  hands 
to  you  over  a  grave — the  grave  where  my  love  lies — 
slain!" 

And  as  she  said  the  words  she  fell  upon  her  knees, 
weeping,  sobbing  with  bitter  cries,  as  though  a  grave 
lay  there,  and  she  had  fallen  upon  it. 

He  was  touched.  He  could  not  tolerate  what  he 
believed  to  be  her  crime,  but  she  was  young,  beauti- 
ful, and  loving.  Her  crime  had  been  committed 
through  love  for  him.  He  raised  her  from  the  ground. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  HiJdred, "  he  said;  "it  is  very  sad 
for  both  of  us.  Now  we  must  talk  of  something  else. 
You  must  go  at  once." 

She  raised  her  weeping  eyes  td  him. 

"Must  you  send  me  away?"  she  asked,  gently.  "It 
was  wrong,  I  was  mad  with  jealous  anger,  but  I  did 
not  think  I  was.    Could  you  overlook  it?" 

"You  speak  lightly,"  he  replied,  sternly.  "No,  you 
can  never  re-enter  my  house.  I  have  arranged  it  all. 
I  did  so  when  I  took  poor  Lady  Hamilton  back  to  the 
castle.  I  told  our  guests  that  you  had  been  suddenly 
sent  for  by  your  father,  that  I  had  driven  3'ou  to  the 
station — and  it  is  to  your  father's  house  that  you  must 
go-" 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  drearily. 

"You  do  not   seem  to  understand,"   he  remarked. 


378 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


sharply;  Mdo  you  not  know  the  danger,  the  peril  that 

hangs  over  you?" 

She  did  not;  but  of  what  use  was  it  to  say  so? 

"Try  to  collect  yourself  and  understand,"  he  con- 
tinued; "time  presses.  I  cannot  keep  them  away 
much  longer.  You  must  depart  at  once  without  being 
seen.  No  one  must  know  at  what  hour  you  went.  You 
must  go  to  your  father's  house  and  wait  there.  If  it 
should  be  needful  to  send  you  abroad,  I  will  arrange 
it." 

"Have  I  done  so  very  wrong?"  she  murmured. 
The  earl  cried  out  passionately: 

"Heaven  give  me  patience!  You  must  be  mad  to 
ask  me  such  a  question.  One  would  think  you  did 
not  know  what  wrong  meant." 

Hildred  stood  quite  still,  looking  almost  helplessly 
at  him. 

"You  do  not  seem  to  realize  or  to  know  what  you 
have  done,"  he  said,  hastily.  - 

"I  do,  I  do,"  she  moaned;  "and  there  will  be  no 
pardon.  I  wish  that  I  might  fling  myself  into  that 
lake.    I  would,  but  that  there  is  a  life  to  come." 

"Hildred,"  said  the  earl,  sternly,  "listen  to  me.  I 
have  told  you  that  you  must  never  re-enter  my  doors; 
but  you  bear  my  name,  and  for  my  name's  sake  I  will 
shield  you.  The  Countess  of  Caraven  may  have  done 
wrong,  but  the  world  must  not  know  it.  I  must  save 
you  from  the  consequences  of  your  mad  folly.  See — I 
went  quietly  to  your  rooms  and  have  brought  you 
these."  He  gave  her  a  cloak  and  a  bonnet  with  a 
thick  veil.  "I  found  them  in  your  wardrobe.  Have 
you  any  money?" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


379 


"No,"  she  replied,  vacantly,  "none." 

He  took  out  his  purse  and  gave  it  to  her. 

"I  would  accompany  you,"  he  said,  "but  that  it 
would  draw  down  suspicion  on  you.  I  must  be  here 
to  ward  it  off.  Wrap  yourself  in  this  cloak.  Hide  all 
that  amber  satin." 

With  cold,  trembling  hands  she  obeyed  him.  Sud- 
denly she  remembered  the  rubies.  She  unclasped  the 
necklace  and  bracelets. 

"Take  these,"  she  said;  and  the  earl  took  them — 
it  was  better,  he  thought,  to  humor  her. 

"Now  you  quite  understand,  Hildred?  You  must  not 
go  near  Court  Raven — you  are  known  there.  You  must 
walk  to  Worseley;  that  is  a  larger  station;  no  one 
will  know  you.  Take  a  ticket  for  London.  When  you 
reach  there,  hail  a  cab  and  go  straight  to  your  father's 
house.   Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  understand?" 

"Yes;  what  must  I  say  to  my  father?"  she  asked. 

"You  had  better  tell  him  the  truth.  He  is  a  quick, 
keen  man  of  the  world;  he  will  know  far  better  than 
I  do  what  should  be  done.    Tell  him  all." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  mechanically.    %  * 

"Now  hasten  away  from  here,  Hildred,"  he  said.  "I 
am  in  mortal  fear.  You  understand  all.  You  know 
the  road  to  Worseley — it  is  direct — you  take  the  high- 
road without  turning.  Good-bye." 

She  raised  her  dark,  sad  eyes  to  his  face;  all  the 
love,  the  passion,  the  regret,  that  she  could  not  put 
into  words,  was  revealed  in  them. 

"Good-bye,"  she  repeated. 

He  did  not  hold  out  his  hand  to  her.    Had  he  been 


38o 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


speaking  to  the  merest  stranger,  his  voice  could  not 
have  been  colder  or  more  stern.  Then  he  turned  quick- 
ly away,  and  Lady  Caraven  walked  across  the  coppice 
and  through  a  lane  into  the  high-road.  She  walked 
quite  mechanically.  She  had  to  go  to  Worseley, 
to  take  a  train  for  London,  and  then  go  to  her  father's 
house.  She  repeated  the  words  over  and  over  again 
to  herself,  like  a  child  who  dreads  forgetting  a  lesson. 
Her  face  was  deadly  pale;  her  limbs  trembled  with 
cold.  The  golden  stars  shone  down  upon  her;  the 
night-winds  whispered  round  her.  She  walked  on, 
unconscious  of  it  all. 

It  was  the  early  dawn  of  morning  when  she  reached 
the  station — a  large  railroad  junction,  where  she  was 
both  unknown  and  unnoticed.  The  train  started  for 
London  in  half  an  hour.  No  one  spoke  to  her  or  ap- 
peared to  see  her,  as  she  took  her  place,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  more  she  was  on  her  way. 

It  was  a  hard  punishment — terribly  hard  for  such  a 
trifle,  she  thought,  wondering  that  the  earl  could  be 
so  stern.  She  was  tired,  fatigued,  exhausted  with 
passion  and  emotion.  She  had  neither  eaten,  drank, 
nor  slept  since  the  evening  before.  When  she  reached 
London  she  asked  a  porter  to  call  a  cab  for  her,  and 
gave  the  address:  "Mr.  Ransome,  the  Hollies,  Kew," 
— and  the  drive  thither  seemed  to  her  more  than  ever 
like  a  dream. 


CHAPTER  XL 

MYOU  SHOT  LADY  HAMILTON" 

Arley  Ransome  had  not  worked  quite  so  hard  of  late; 
there  was  but  little  need.  He  had  achieved  the  height 
of  his  ambition;  he  had  a  large  fortune;  he  was  able 
to  speak  of  his  daughter,  the  Countess  of  Caraven; 
he  could  claim  kinsmanship  through  his  daughter 
with  some  of  the  noblest  families  in  England.  There 
was  no  need  now  to  work  quite  so  hard;  he  could  linger 
over  his  daintily-spread  breakfast-table  and  read  his 
papers  at  his  leisure,  content  if  he  reached  the  city 
before  noon.  On  this  morning  he  had  seated  himself  so 
as  to  enjoy  three  things  at  once — the  beautiful  view  of 
the  river  from  his  window,  the  blight  fire  in  the  grate 
and  the  recherche  little  breakfast  that  had  been  served 
up  to  him.  It  was  a  sudden  shock  to  him  when,  on 
hearing  a  sound,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  door,  and 
saw  there  a  pale,  beautiful  woman,  who  stood  wring- 
ing her  hands. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "I  am  come  home." 

In  utter  amazement  he  started  from  his  seat.  His 
daughter,  his  beautiful  Hildred,  the  Countess  of 
Caraven,  pale  as  death,  wrapped  in  a  dark  traveling- 
cloak!    What  could  it  mean? 

I — I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  my  dear,"  he  said; 
but  he  had  a  horrible  foreboding  that    something  ter- 

381 


382 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


rible  had  occurred,  and  that  the  days  of  his  greatness 
had  vanished.  "Come  in,  pray  come  in,  my  dear — do 
not  stand  there.  How  strange  you  look!  Where  is 
Caraven?  Dear,  dear,  how  odd  it  is!  Come  in,  Hil- 
dred — the  servants  will  think  it  strange  to  see  you 
standing  there." 

She  entered  the  room  and  walked  up  to  him  with 
haughty  mien. 

"This  is  the  end  of  my  marriage,  father, "  she  said, 
calmly — "the  marriage  that  you  told  me  could  be  hap- 
py without  love.  This  is  the  end  of  it,  and  I  am  come 
home. " 

"Sit  down,  my  dear,  sit  down;  there  is  nothing  so 
horrible  as  a  scene,  and  this  looks  like  one.  Take  off 
your  cloak  and  your  bonnet.  What  a  strange  head- 
dress!" 

She  unfastened  the  thick  traveling-cloak,  and  there 
in  picturesque  disarray  was  the  rich  evening  dress  of 
amber  and  black,  with  a  faded  crimson  flower  clinging 
to  it.  The  lawyer  looked  on  in  utter  dismay.  This 
disregard  for  dress  and  appearances  spoke  more  for- 
cibly than  anything  else  could  have  done — told  more 
plainly  than  words  that  something  dreadful  had  hap- 
pened. 

"Evening    toilet,  Hildred!    Pray,  my  dear,  put  on 
your  cloak  again.    I  do  not  know — I  was  not  prepared 
— (put  it  on  quickly,  before  any  of  the  servants  com 
in.    What  is  it,  Hildred— what  is  the  matter?" 

"  Not  much,  father,"  she  replied,  drearily;  "my  mar- 
riage has  not  turned  out  well,  and  I  am  come  home, 
you  see." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


383 


"But  that  is  nonsense — you  cannot  come  home. 
What  is  the  matter?  Tell  me,"  and  the  lawyer, 
with  a  very  resigned  expression  of  face,  put  away 
his  pate  de  foi  gras  and  folded  his  hands  to  listen  to 
his  daughter's  story. 

"You  have  not  quarreled  with  the  earl,  I  hope — thar 
is,  you  have  not  left  him?" 

"He  has  sent  me  away,"  she  replied,  and  Arley  Ran- 
some's  face  grew  very  dark, 

"There  is  not  much  to  tell,"  she  continued,  wearily. 
"You  misled  me — you  told  me  that  marriage  could  be 
happy  without  love.  I  find  that  love  is  the  soul  of 
it,  that  without  love  marriage  is  like  a  dead  body.  I, 
being  the  weaker  and  inferior,  was  the  first  to  learn  to 
love.  I  learned  to  love  my  husband — he  has  never 
cared  for  me." 

"You  are  too  sentimental,  Hildred,"  said  Arley  Ran- 
some,  severely. 

"I  have  been  doing  my  best  for  my  husband,"  she 
continued,  "and  we  were  growing  happier.  In-time 
I  think  that  he  would  have  loved  me;  but  someone 
else,  a  fair  woman— one  of  the  kind  of  women  that  he 
admires — Lady  Hamilton,  came,  and — " 

r,I  see,'1  said  the  lawyer — "the  old  story,  jealousy 
and  quarreling.  Surely,  Hildred,  you  have  not  thrown 
away  the  labor  of  a  lifetime  by  growing  jealous  and 
vexing  the  earl?" 

"I  have  done  worse  than  that,"  she  said— "far 
worse.  I  was  jealous  of  Lady  Hamilton.  I  thought 
that  both  she  and  my  husband  were  deriding  me.  I 
followed  them  when  they  wei)t  out;  to  see  the  sun  set 


384 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


over  the  lake.    I  hid  myself  behind  the  alder-trees  to 

listen  if  they  said  anything  about   me;   and   then— I 
cannot  tell  how  it  happened — my  husband   saw  me. 
He  was  very  angry;  he  said  that  I  was  never  to  enter 
Uis  doors  again,  but  to  return  home  at  once  to  you." 
The  lawyer's  face  cleared. 

"You  are  quite  sure  that  you  have  told  me  the  whole 
truth?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  quite  sure.  What  should  1  keep  from  you? 
It  seems  a  very  hard  punishment  for  what  was  merely 
a  fault  rather  of  judgment  than  anything  else.  I  told 
the  earl  that  I  loved  him,  and  that  jealousy  had  driven 
me  mad." 

"You  told  him  that?  Then  rely  upon  it,  in  a  few 
days  all  will  be  well.  He  will  forget  his  anger,  and 
come  to  you." 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  she  returned. 

"You  are  quite  sure,  Hildred,  that  you  have  hidden 
nothing  from  me?"  he  interrogated;  adding,  "It  is,  as 
you  say,  severe  punishment  for  so  small  a  fault." 

She  looked  up  at  him  in  surprise. 

"What  can  I  have  to  hide,  papa?  In  telling  you  of 
my  love  and  my  jealousy,  I  have  told  you  the  worst." 

"Then  all  will  come  right  again.  In  the  meantime 
keep  up  appearances,  go  to  your  own  room  unobserved, 
and  wait  until  37our  luggage  arrives.  I  shall  say  that 
you  are  come  for  a  few  days'  change.  Keep  up  your 
spirits;  all  will  come  right  again,  I  feel  sure." 

"I  am  very  tired,  papa,"  she  said.  "I  think  I  will 
stay  in  my  room  to-day." 

"Very  well,  my  dear;  do  just  as  you  like;  you  know 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


385 


best,  of  course.  I  will  say  that  you  do  not  feel  very 
well.  Go  to  your  room,  by  all  means.  I  hope  you 
will  soon  be  better.  Now  try  to  cheer  up;  it  will  be 
all  right;  I  will  see  to  this  difficulty  with  your  hus- 
band for  you." 

She  looked  up  at  him  proudly. 

"You  must  not  interfere,  papa!  1  shall  never  return 
to  him  now!" 

He  looked  pityingly  at  the  white  face. 

"You  appear  very  ill,  Hildred.  Is  there  nothing 
that  I  can  do  for  you?" 

"Nothing,"  she  replied,  coldly. 

In  her  heart  she  felt  bitterly  angry  with  her  father. 
She  had  trusted  him,  he  had  misled  her.  She  did 
not  offer  to  kiss  him  or  to  touch  his  hand,  but  went 
quietly  out  of  the  room  and  upstairs,  leaving  him 
with  some  very  unpleasant  thoughts. 

It  had  not  been  an  agreeable  interruption  to  his 
breakfast,  but  he  tried  to  think  little  of  it.  It  was 
only  a  quarrel  after  all,  and  his  daughter  had  done 
nothing  wrong.  He  should  make  it  all  right  in  a  few 
seconds  when  he  saw  the  earl.  He  wrote  to  him  before 
he  went  to  the  city,  telling  him  that  his  wife  had 
reached  home  safely,  but  was  looking  very  ill. 

The  rest  of  that  day  Hildred  remained  in  her  room, 
and  on  the  morning  following  she  had  not  come  down- 
stairs. It  was  after  noon  when  Arley  Ransome,  with 
a  face  as  pale  as  death,  asked  for  admittance  to  her 
apartment. 

She  bade  him  enter,  and  he  did  so,  with  an  open 
letter  in  his  hand.  It  was  her  husband's  writing,  she 
perceived. 


$86  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

31  You  have  deceived  me,"  said  her  father,  sternly; 
"you  told  me  that  you  had  hidden  nothing  from  me. 
Your  husband  tells  me  that  he  has  hidden  you  here  be- 
cause you  shot  Lady  Hamilton  on  the  evening  of  the 
thirty-first — shot  her  with  intent  to  murder — and  that 
you  confessed  your  guilt!" 

Without  a  word  or  a  murmur,  she  looked  at  him* 
and  then  fell  like  one  dead  at  his  feet. 


CHAPTER  XLI 


"she  loved  him  as  no  one  else  ever  could" 

The  young  countess,  as  she  stood  behind  the  alder- 
trees  at  Ravensmere,  had  heard  the  sound  of  a  shot; 
she  was  too  dazed  with  her  own  grief  and  misery  to 
note  the  direction  from  which  it  had  proceeded.  She 
had  fancied  that  something  went  whirring  through  the 
trees.  That  something  was  the  ball  that  had  been  fired 
at  Lady  Hamilton,  which  pierced  her  shoulder,  and 
would  have  pierced  her  heart  had  it  gone  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  it  had  been  aimed. 

For  the  moment  Lord  Caraven  had  been  too  bewil- 
dered to  know  what  had  happened ;  what  he  was  say- 
ing in  reality  to  his  guest  was  that  he  liked  his  wife's 
maiden  name  better  than  any  he  had  ever  heard.  Lady 
Hamilton,  who  never  liked  to  hear  anyone  praised 
but  herself,  asked  at  once  what  it  was.  He  had  an- 
swered, "Hildred  Ransome;"  and  those  were  the  words 
Lady  Caraven  had  heard.  They  had  been  no  sooner 
uttered  than  Lady  Hamilton  fell  on  his  shoulder  with 
a  faint,  low  cry — a  cry  that  seemed  almost  simultaneous 
with  the  firing  of  the  shot. 

The  earl  knew  she  had  been  shot,  but  by  whom  or 
why  he  could  not  guess.  He  laid  her  down  for  one 
minute  while  he  looked  around ;  then  it  was  that  he 
saw  the  white  face    of  his  wife.    He  jumped    to  the 

387 


388 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


conclusion  that  she  had  done  it;  she,  and  no  other, 
was- there  on  the  spot.  She  had  even  herself  avowed 
her  jealousy.  She  had  followed  them,  and  in  the  mad- 
ness of  her  folly  had  shot  Lady  Hamilton.  No  other 
idea  occurred  to  him.  He  said  to  himself  at  once  that 
it  was  so,  and  he  implicitly  believed  it.  He  had  rushed 
to  her  and  told  her  that  she  was  a  "guilty  woman. " 
She  had  owned  it.  But  they  were  speaking  of  different 
kind  of  guilt.  He  meant  the  guilt  of  murder;  she 
meant  the  guilt  of  being  a  spy  upon  him.  No  doubt 
of  her  guilt  relieved  his  mind.  Even  in  that  first  be- 
wildered moment  he  said  to  himself  that  she  should 
never  enter  his  house  again,  but  that  he  would  shield 
her  because  she  bore  his  name.  He  had  told  her  to 
remain  where  she  was  while  he  carried  the  senseless 
lady  to  the  house. 

There  was%  a  terrible  consternation.  He  had  the 
presence  of  mind  to  throw  the  agitated  inquirers  off  the 
scent.  He  said  that  the  poachers  were  out — must  be 
out  for  a  chance  shot  fired  in  the  woods  had  wounded 
Lady  Hamilton.  Some  of  the  gentlemen  staying  at  the 
house  went  with  the  keepers  to  scour  the  woods.  Dire 
were  the  threats  of  vengeance  as  to  the  rogue  who 
had  done  the  mischief.  Meanwhile  a  groom  was  dis- 
patched to  Court  Raven  to  summon  a  doctor — the 
wounded  lady  had  been  taken  to  her  room  and  laid  on 
the  bed.  At  first  the  earl  was  frightened  lest  the 
wound  should  prove  mortal;  but  one  of  the  ladies 
staying  at  the  castle,  who  knew  something  of  surgery, 
declared  that  the  wound  was  not  dangerous,  and  that 
the  ball  could  soon  be  extracted.    After  hearing  that, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


389 


the  earl  returned  to  his  unhappy  young  wife.  His  first 
great  fear  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  murder  had  been 
removed;  there  remained  the  fear  lest  the  wound  should 
prove  dangerous  in  the  end.  It  was  better,  he  thought, 
that  she  should  go  away  at  once. 

He  made  two  announcements  to  his  household, which 
no  one  even  thought  of  connecting.  The  first  and 
most  startling  was,  of  course,  that  Lady  Hamilton  had 
been  shot  accidentally — a  chance  shot — though  why  a 
ball-cartridge  had  been  used  was  a  puzzle— supposed 
to  have  been  fired  by  poachers  in  the  wood;  the  sec- 
ond was  that  Lady  Caraven  had  been  suddenly  sum- 
moned to  her  father's  house  in  London.  No  one 
dreamed  of  connecting  the  two  announcements,  and 
in  the  disordered  state  of  the  household  it  never 
occurred  to  any  of  the  guests  to  question  the  servants 
as  to  when  the  countess  had  gone.  She  had  been 
sent  for  after  dinner,  and  the  apologies  that  the  earl 
made  were  deemed  quite  sufficient.  Some  of  the  guests 
indeed  said  that  it  was  as  well  Lady  Caraven  was  out 
of  the  way,  as  she  would  probably  have  been  greatly 
distressed.  To  this  day  the  earl  is  uncertain  what  in 
his  panic  he  said  or  did.  The  only  idea  quite  clear  to 
him  was  that  he  must  shield  the  woman  who  bore  his 
name. 

It  was  not  very  long  before  the  doctor  arrived,  and 
then  all  alarm  was  at  an  end.  He  found  the  ball  at 
once;  it  had  not  gone  very  deep  into  the  shoulder.  It 
was  extracted,  and  the  wound  bound  up. 

Then  lovely  Lady  Hamilton  raised  her  Had,  and 
asked,  languidly: 


39° 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"Shall  I  be  very  ill,  doctor? " 

"No;  I  hope  not.  You  will  suffer  a  little  pain — 
nothing  much,  I  trust" 

"Shall  I  be  ill  for  a  long  time?"  she  asked.  "Ah 
me!  how  little  I  dreamed  that  I  was  coming  to  Ra- 
vensmere  to  be  shot!" 

"It  is  very  unfortunate,"  said  the  doctor;  "but  I  do 
not  think  you  will  be  ill  very  long,  Lady  Hamilton. 
You  must  take  heart." 

"To  think  that  of  all  the  people  in  the  world  they 
should  select  me!  I  suppose  it  was  quite  an  accident 
though.  They  were  poachers,  I  am  told.  Now,  doctor, 
I  want  to  ask  you  a  very  serious  question." 

The  doctor  seemed  to  imply  by  his  manner  that  he 
was  all  attention. 

"I  shall  be  very  happy  to  answer  it,  if  it  lies  in  my 
power,"  he  said. 

"Tell  me-— shall  I  lose — that  is — will  my  temporary 
seclusion  interfere  at  all  with  what  I  may  call  my  good 
looks?" 

He  told  himself  that  the  amusement  he  felt  must  be 
carefully  concealed. 

"I  think,"  he  replied,  confidentially,  "that  I  may 
reassure  your  ladyship.  I  do  not  see  hov;  it  can  pos- 
sibly affect  you  in  that  fashion,  and  the  needful  rest 
will  be  most  beneficial  to  you." 

Then  she  was  content  to  remain  in  hev  room,  not 
suffering  very  much  pain.  To  be  petted,  indulged, 
made  a  great  heroine  of,  to  be  the  center  of  all  anx- 
iety, was  very  pleasant  to  her.  She  knew  that  all 
her  admirers  would  be  in  a  state  of  anxiety  about  her, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


391 


that  a  hundred  perfumed  notes  would  reach  her  every 
day,  that  flowers  and  fruits,  newspapers,  books,  all  the 
trifles  invalids  love,  would  be  showered  upon  her; 
above  all,  she  would  be  a  great  source  of  interest  to 
the  handsome  earl.  She  did  not  think  very  much 
about  who  had  shot  her;  there  were  poachers  about, 
and  it  must  have  been  a  stray  shot — no  one  had  done 
it  purposely,  for,  as  the  lovely  lady  told  herself  with 
a  smile,  she  had  not  an  enemy  in  the  whole  wide 
world. 

The  keepers  had  made  strenuous  efforts  to  find  the 
poachers,  but  they  had  evidently  made  their  escape, 
frightened,  doubtless,  at  what  they  had  done.  No 
trace  of   them  could  be  found. 

It  was  with  a  sense  of  relief  that  Lord  Caraven  went 
to  his  room  that  night.  He  wanted  to  be  alone  to 
think  over  the  events  of  the  day.  He  found  himself 
dwelling  less  on  the  terrible  fact  that  his  wife  had 
shot  Lady  Hamilton  than  on  the  wonderful  fact  that 
she  loved  him. 

"I  have  gone  mad — I  love  you — let  me  die!" 

The  words  haunted   him  like  the  refrain  of  a  song. 

He  could  not  sleep.  All  night  the  pale,  passionate, 
beautiful  face  was  before  him.  The  words  rang  in 
his  ears  as  they  had  rung  when  he  saw  Hildred  in  the 
starlight,  pleading,  praying,  accusing  him,  all  in  one 
vehement  storm  of  words.  So  he  would  see  her  until 
he  died.  He  felt  as  though  she  had  been  a  stranger 
to  him  until  then.  The  passionate  love  which  had 
flamed  into  hot  jealousy  had  been  hidden  under  a 
cold,  calm  exterior.    How  she  loved  him!    He  had 


392 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


never  seen  any  woman's  face  light  up  so  splendia.y. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  owned  to  himself  that 
by  the  side  of  her  magnificent  beauty  blonde  loveliness 
faded  into  nothing.  He  wondered  that  he  had  lived  so 
long  in  the  house  with  her,  so  long  under  one  roof, 
yet  had  not  noticed  that  which  everyone  else  remarked. 

He  was  struck  most  of  all  by  the  fact  that  she  loved 
him.  It  did  not  matter  about  anything  else.  He  had 
read  her  truth  and  her  love  in  her  face.  She  loved  him 
as  no  one  else  ever  would  or  could;  and  it  flashed  across 
him  that  the  wife  he  had  neglected  and  despised  was, 
notwithstanding  what  she  had  done,  one  of  the  noblest 
women  in  the  world.  If  it  had  but  been  different;  if  he 
had  but  thought  more  of  her  before  this  happened! 
How  she  must  have  loved  him  to  let  herself  drift  intc 
such  a  crime!  Was  there  anyone  who  had  ever  loved 
him  half  so  well? 

"I  wish  it  had  never  happened,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"She  is  a  noble  woman  in  spite  of  all,  and  I — well,  I 
could  have  loved  her,  but  now  she  must  never  re 
turn." 

Yet  it  showed  how  strongly  his  feelings  were  swayea 
when  he  thought  far  less  of  wounded  Lady  Hamilton, 
than  of  the  fact  that  his  wife  loved  him. 

He  could  not  sleep  or  rest.  Never  had  his  pillow 
seemed  so  hard,  his  thoughts  so  troublesome.  The 
excitement  had  been  too  much  for  him.  Wherever  he 
went,  whatever  he  did,  his  thoughts  were  with  Hildred. 
Had  she  reached  Arley  Ransome's  house?  Had  he 
acted  wisely  in  letting  her  go  alone?  Would  any  clew 
to  her  guilt  ever  be  found?    These  questions  followed 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


393 


him,  haunted  him,  pursued  him.  If  he  went  to  talk  to 
any  of  his  visitors,  the  conversation  was  sure  to  turn 
upon  the  poachers  and  Lady  Hamilton. 

Wearied  of  it  all  he  sought  refuge  with  Sir  Raoul 
in  his  room ;  and  the  soldier  noted  with  concern  how 
worn  and  haggard  the  handsome  earl  looked. 


CHAPTER  XLII 


"l  AM  SORRY  I  DID  NOT  KILL  HER*' 

Greatly  disturbed  in  his  mind  about  his  wife,  and 
worried  excessively  by  troublesome  inquiries  as  to  the 
accident  which  had  happened  to  Lady  Hamilton,  Lord 
Caraven  determined  to  seek  refuge  with  his  kinsman, 
Sir  Raoul  Laureston. 

"Let  me  stay  with  you,  Raoul,"  said  the  earl  on  en- 
tering his  room;  "my  guests  tease  me  to  death.  One 
hears  of  nothing  but  Lady 'Hamilton  and  the  poachers. 
I  have  had  to  tell  the  story  over  and  over  again,  until 
I  am  fairly  tired  of  it.    Let  me  find  rest  here." 

Sir  Raoul  looked  at  the  earl's  haggard  face. 

"Poor  boy,"  he  said;  "it  is  rather  hard  for  you  cer- 
tainly. I  promise  you  that  I  will  mention  neither 
Lady  Hamilton  nor  the  poachers." 

"Poachers!"  repeated  the  earl,  contemptuously. 
"Surely  you — "  He  paused;  he  had  been  on  the 
brink  of  betraying  the  secret  that  he  had  sworn  never 
to  reveal. 

Sir  Raoul  laughed. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  said,  "that  you  are  just  as 
bad  as  anyone  else.  You  cannot  keep  away  from  the 
topic." 

"We  will  discuss  the  weather,  the  last  new  book, 
politics,  the  papers — anything,"  proposed    the  earl ; 

394 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


395 


and  then  he  added,  "that  reminds  me — some  version 
of  this  story  is  sure,  I  suppose,  to  get  abroad.  The 
papers  will  make  a  sensational  affair  of  it." 

"I  thought  we  were  to  avoid  the  topic,"  said  Sir 
Raoul,  quietly.  "Now  you  have  touched  upon  it 
again." 

"And  to  make  matters  worse,"  remarked  the  earl, 
with  a  gesture  of  weary  despair,  "here  comes  the  doc- 
tor. " 

Dr.  Randall  entered  the  room  unannounced,  and  in 
great  haste.  The  earl  sprang  from  his  seat  at  the 
sound  of  his  agitated  voice,  his  face  growing  pale  and 
anxious. 

"Surely,"  he  said,  "Lady  Hamilton  is  not  worse?" 

"No,  she  seems  better.  It  is  not  about  Lady  Ham- 
ilton that  I  want  you,  Lord  Caraven.  I  was  sent  for 
the  moment  I  left  here  in  behalf  of  the  man  who  used 
to  act  as  your  steward — John  Blantyre." 

"John  Blantyre,"  said  the  earl,  vaguely.  "Is  he  ill?" 
The  subject  did  not  interest  him  very  much — indeed 
he  thought  it  trivial  amid  the  excitement  of  his  own 
affairs. 

"No,  not  ill  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the  term," 
answered  the  doctor.    "He  is  dying,  I  fear." 

"Dying,  yet  not  ill!    You  speak  in  riddles,  doctor." 

"It  is  all  a  riddle  to  me,"  said  the  physician;  "per- 
haps you  can  solve  it.  He  has  committed  suicide — that 
is,  he  has  made  an  attempt  on  his  life,  but  he  has  not 
quite  succeeded." 

"He  was  very  foolish,"  remarked  the  earl.  Even  the 
fact  that  his  confidential  steward  had  attempted  to  de- 


396 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


stroy  his  own  life  seemed  to  him  a  matter  of  less  mo- 
ment than  the  fact  that  his  wife  loved  him. 

Dr.  Randall  looked  uneasily  at  the  unconscious  face. 

"May  I  speak  on  a  private  matter?"  he  said. 

"Certainly,"  was  the  quick  reply.  "I  have  no  secrets 
from  my  relative,  Sir  Raoul." 

"I  cannot  quite  understand  it,"  continued  the  doctor. 
"They  sent  for  me,  and  when  I  reached  the  house  1 
found  that  Blantyre  had  attempted  to  take  his  life. 
I  will  not  tell  you  how — there  is  no  need  to  add  to  a 
list  of  horrors.  I  found  him  dying,  not  dead;  he  is 
dying  now.  His  only  cry  was  for  you,  Lord  Caraven; 
he  wanted  to  see  you." 

"I  do  not  in  the  least  aesire  to  see  him,"  said  thf? 
earl,  quickly.  "Frankly  speaking,  doctor,  repentant 
sinners  and  death-beds  are  not  much  in  my  line.  ] 
could  do  him  no  good." 

"Perhaps  not — yet  he  gave  me  no  rest  until  I  had 
promised  to  ask  you  to  visit  him — no  rest  at  all.  The 
strange  part  of  the  story  has  to  come,  Lord  Caraven. 
It  was  not  a  poacher  who  fired  the  shot — it  was  him- 
self. We  have  this  time  done  the  poachers  an  in- 
justice." 

The  doctor  was  not  prepared  for  the  effect  of  his 
words.  The  earl  sprang  from  his  chair,  rushed  across 
the  room,  and  seized  him  by  the  arm. 

"Say  that  again,"  he  cried.  "John  Blantyre  fired 
that  shot?" 

"So  he  says,"  replied  the  doctor.  "He  gasped  the 
story  out  to  me  in  broken  words.  'I  always  hated  her. ' 
he  said,  'hated  her;  aucj  last  night  I  shot  her  by  thq 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


397 


edge  of  the  lake.  I  shot  her  through  the  heart,  and 
I  saw  her  fall,  and' — -* 

"It  is  impossible!"  cried  the  earl.  "The  man  must 
have  been  delirious!  He  never  saw  Lady  Hamilton 
in  his  life — how  could  he  hate  her?" 

"That  is  the  strangest  part  of  the  story,"  said  the 
doctor.  "He  persists  in  saying  that  he  shot  Lady 
Caraven.    I  cannot  understand  the  matter." 

"I  do,"  put  in  Sir  Raoul,  calmly.  "Blantyre  was 
dismissed  at  Lady  Caraven' s  desire,  and  he  swore  to 
be  revenged  upon  her.  This  is  his  revenge — he  shot 
Lady  Hamilton,  believing  her  to  be  the  countess." 

"It  is  impossible!"  repeated  the  earl.  "They  are  so 
different.  Lady  Hamilton  is  fair,  the  countess  dark — 
he  could  not  mistake  them." 

Suddenly  he  remembered  that  it  was  in  the  semi- 
darkness  of  night  that  the  occurrence  had  happened 
and  Lady  Hamilton  was  wrapped  in  a  silvery  veil. 
Could  he  have  mistaken  them?  The  doctor  shook  his 
head. 

"I  do  not  understand — it  is,  as  I  have  said,  a  riddle 
to  me.  I  should  certainly  advise  you,  Lord  Caraven, 
to  see  the  man;  that  is  the  only  way  to  clear  up  the 
mystery. " 

"There  is  no  mystery,"  said  Sir  Raoul.  "It  is  as  I 
say:  the  man  intended  to  murder  Lady  Caraven — by 
mistake  he  has  shot  Lady  Hamilton.  How  he  mistook 
them  is,  perhaps,  a  mystery,  and  that  you  can  solve  by 
going  to  see  him.    Go.  Ulric. " 

"Yes,"  responded  Lord  Caraven,  "I  will  go — I  will 
go  with  you,  doctor,  if  you  are  ready.  Raoul,  it  would 
be  as  well  noc  to  mention  this." 


398 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"You  may  rely  upon  me,"  said  his  friend. 

The  doctor  and  the  earl  quitted  the  room  together. 
The  carriage  was  ordered,  and  they  drove  at  once  to 
Court  Raven. 

They  were  not  long  in  finding  Blantyre's  house,  and 
before  long  the  earl  stood  by  the  death-bed  of  his  late 
steward.  The  man's  dying  face  was  turned  toward 
him,  his  dying  eyes  gleamed  as  they   recognized  him. 

"My  lord,"  he  said,  "you  were  always  kind  to  me. 
Her  ladyship  ruined  me — she  turned  me  away — and  I 
hated  her.  I  would  not  harm  one  hair  of  your  head; 
but  I  have 'killed  her,  and  I  am  not  sorry,  I  am  glad." 

"Whom  have  you  killed?"  asked  the  earl,  calmly. 

The  dying  eyes  glared. 

"Whom?  The  Countess  of  Caraven,  the  beautiful, 
proud,  imperious  woman,  who  with  one  wave  of  her 
hand  sent  me  to  ruin — I  have  killed  her." 

"How  did  you  kill  her?"  inquired  the  earl. 

A  wild  laugh  came  from  the  man's  lips. 

"How?  I  have  watched  and  waited  many  a  long  day. 
I  have  stood  in  the  high-road  when  she  passed  by,  but 
never  until  the  other  night  did  I  get  one  chance.  I 
could  have  shot  her  dead  a  hundred  times,  but  I 
would  not,  lest  in  taking  her  life  I  took  also  the  life 
of  one  who  had  never  harmed  me.  I  hated  her  be- 
cause she  ruined  me.  She  drove  me  from  my  place, 
she  left  me  branded  as  a  thief  among  my  fellow  men, 
she  left  me  without  character,  without  reputation ;  she 
was  my  bane  and  my  curse,  so  I  shot  her.  But  I  am 
not  all  bad,  and  I  was  sorry  when  I  saw  her  fall  dead. 
I  came  home,  but  she  followed  me;  she  has  stood  near 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


399 


to  me  ever  since — a  woman  with  dead  eyes,  awful  to 
look  upon — awful  to  see." 

"Tell  me,"  said  the  earl,  quietly,  "how  did  you  know 
that  it  was  my  wife?" 

An  expression  of  cunning  came  over  the  dying  face. 

"I  knew  her  by  the  scarf — her  silver  scarf — she  wore 
it  over  her  arms  the  first  time  I  saw  her." 

"You  tried  to  take  a  terrible  revenge,"  said  Lord 
Caraven. 

"It  has  been  worse  for  me,"  returned  the  dying  man 
— "a  thousand  times  worse  for  me.  I  went  five  times 
after  five  different  situations,  and  on  each  occasion  it 
was  flung  scornfully  in  my  face  that  I  had  been  dis- 
missed from  Ravensmere.  When  I  found  that  I  was 
ruined,  I  swore  that  I  would  kill  her  ladyship,  and 
I  have  done  it." 

"Thank  heaven  that  you  have  not!"  said  the  earl, 
hastily.  "I  am  thankful  to  say  that  your  murderous 
shot  never  reached  my  wife.  The  lady  you  have  in- 
jured is  a  stranger  to  you — Lady  Hamilton;  she  had 
thrown  Lady  Caraven's  scarf  over  her  shoulders: — hence 
the  (for  me)  fortunate  mistake." 

The  look  on  the  dying  man's  face  was  terrible  to  see 
— the  fiendish  disappointment,  the  bitter  hatred. 

"Then  I  have  not  killed  her  after  all?"  he  cried. 

"No;  you  have  wounded  an  innocent  lady,  a  stranger 
to  you — that  is  all;  my  dear  wife  you  have  not  injured.  " 

"And  I  sent  for  you  believing  that  she  was  dead, 
dreading  lest  an  innocent  man  should  suffer  for  my 
deed, longing,  also,  that  you  should  know  I  had  taken 
my  revenge." 


400 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  can  only  thank  heaven  you  have  failed,"  said  the 
earl.  John  Blantyre  raised  himself;  the  hatred,  the 
bad  passions  in  the  dying  face  were  terrible  to  see. 

"Tell  her,"  he  cried,  "I  am  sorry  I  did  not  kill  her; 
tell  her  that  she  ruined  me  and  that  I  hate  her  for  it; 
tell  her  that  I  sent  her  my  curse,  and  that  after  I  had 
cursed  her  I  never  opened  my  lips  again!" 

He  fell  back  exhausted,  and  he  kept  his  word.  Never 
again  were  his  lips  opened  in  mortal  speech.  The  earl 
tried,  Sir  Raoul  left  his  sick-room  to  try  to  soften  and 
persuade  him,  gentle,  low-voiced  women  knelt  by  his 
side,  a  grave  minister  pleaded  with  him — it  was  all  in 
vain ;  after  that  one  terrible  curse  his  lips  were  mute 
and  dumb,  whether  so  stricken  by  heaven  or  whether 
the  result  of  his  anger  and  disappointment  no  one  ever 
knew;  he  died  in  obstinate,  sullen  silence. 

When  that  last  scene  was  over,  the  earl,  who  had  re- 
mained with  him  to  the  end,  returned  to  Ravensmere. 
John  Blantyre's  crime  and  suicide  had  saddened  him 
inexpressibly.  He  was  not  without  plenty  of  sense 
and  reflection.  He  saw  at  once  that  this  was  the  result 
of  his  own  folly — his  inattention  to  his  duties.  He  had 
implicitly  and  blindly  trusted  this  man  simply  because 
he  was  too  idle  to  overlook  him  and  his  accounts. 
What  was  the  result?  He  had  grown  reckless  with 
long  impunity,  and,  when  his  quick,  intelligent  wife 
discovered  the  amount  of  his  peculations,  she  had 
dismissed  him  at  once.  For  what  had  happened  there 
was  only  himself  to  blame. 

"How  I  wish  that  I  could  live  my  life  over  again," 
he  thought;  "I  would  act    differently;  but  as    that  i? 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


401 


impossible,  1  must  make  the  most  I  can  of  the  time 
that  remains."  He  was  more  saddened  and  unhappy 
than  he  ever  remembered  to  have  been  in  his  life  be- 
fore.   He  sought  Sir  RaouPs  room. 

"I  am  quite  out  of  spirits  to-day,"  he  said;  "let  me 
talk  to  you,  Raoul.  This  dreadful  death  of  Blantyre 
has  been  a  shock  to  me  that  I  shall  never  get  over.  I 
feel  as  though  I  am  to  blame  for  it,  all  through  my 
negligence  and  want  of  looking  after  people." 

"You  have  been  to  blame,"  agreed  Sir  Raoul;  "I  do 
not  deny  that.  But  your  indulgence  ought  not  to  have 
made  him  a  thief." 

The  earl  sat  down;  he  laid  his  head  back  with  a  tired, 
wearied  expression. 

"How  my  life  has  changed,  Raoul!"  he  said.  "I 
seem  suddenly  to  have  grown  into  a  man,  wiser,  sad- 
der than  I  had  ever  thought  to  be.  One  thing  above 
all  others  puzzles  me — how  could  I  have  been  so  blind 
or  so  foolish  as  to  misjudge  her?" 

"Misjudge  whom?"  asked  Sir  Raoul. 

"Hildred.  Oh!  I  forgot  I  did  not  tell  you  that!  You 
believed,  of  course,  that  she  had  been  sent  for." 

"Certainly  I  did!"  replied  Sir  Raoul,  in  amazement. 
"Was  it  not  so?" 

"No — that  is  the  worst  part  of  my  trouble.  There 
is  no  truth  in  it.    I  sent  her  away  myself." 

"You  sent  Hildred  away!"  echoed  Sir  Raoul,  slowly. 
"What  do  you  mean,  Ulric?" 

"I  told  her  that  she  must  never  enter  my  doors 
again.    Now  I  find  that  it  is  all  a  mistake." 

Sir  RafHiJ  tried  to  be  patient,  but  it  was  very  diffi- 
cult 


402 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  do  not  in  the  least  understand  what  you  mean, 
Ulric.  Why  did  you  send  Hildred  away,  and  what  was 

a  mistake?" 

"I  shrink  from  telling  you.  Upon  my  honor,  I  am 
ashamed  of  myself.  Do  you  know,  Raoul,  I  positively 
believed  Hildred  had  done  this  deed — I  believed  she 
had  shot  Lady  Hamilton." 

An  expression  of  deepest  contempt  came  over  Sir 
Raoul' s  face. 

"I  should  never  have  imagined  such  a  thought  would 
enter  your  breast,"  he  said  indignantly.  "I  speak  plain- 
ly to  you,  Ulric,  as  I  have  never  done  before — your 
wife  is  wasted  on  you — she  is  a  thousand  times  too 
^bod  for  you.  She  is  one  of  the  noblest,  truest,  pur- 
est women  under  the  sun.  You — if  you  could  so  mis- 
judge her — are  to  be  pitied.  Hildred  capable  of 
murder?  Heaven  give  me  patience!  I  could  not  have 
believed  you  would  entertain  such  an  idea.  I  could 
not  have  imagined  that  you  were  so  utterly  devoid  of 
reason." 

"Listen,  Raoul — do  not  judge  me  quite  so  harshly. 
You  do  not  know  all.    Let  me  tell  you  my  story." 

And  without  further  discussion  the  earl  related  the 
whole  history. 

Sir  Raoul  listened  in  silence. 

"Great  heaven!"  he  cried,  at  last,  "to  think  what  a 
heart  you  have  thrown  away!" 

"But,  Raoul/'  he  rejoined,  "when  I  found  her  hid- 
ing behind  the  trees,  and  she  owned  she  was  guilty, 
what  was  I  to  think?" 

"Careless  as  you  have  been  of  her,"  said  Sir  Raoul, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"you  might  have  known  her  better.  If  I  heard  her  say 
such  a  thing,  I  should,  even  in  spite  of  her  own 
words,  believe  in  her  innocence.  Shame  on  you, 
Caraven,  that  I,  a  stranger  to  her,  should  have  to  take 
up  her  defense!  Shame  on  you  that  you  did  not  un- 
derstand her  better!  She  had  learned  to  love  you, 
poo*r  child!  I  thought  she  would.  You  drove  her 
mad  with  her  slighted,  wounded  love  and  her  jeal- 
ousy, and  she  followed  you;  that  was  what  she  meant 
when  she  owned  that  she  was  guilty.  She  meant  guilty 
of  loving  you  when  you  have  studiously  neglected  her 
— guilty  of  jealousy  when  there  was  love.  I  under- 
stand her  words,  even  if  you  do  not." 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  said  the  earl,  humbly;  "doubly 
sorry,  because,  you  know,  Raoul,  I  was  really  begin- 
ning to  love  and  care  for  her." 

"Beginning!"  cried  Sir  Raoul.  "I  hope  that  I  shall 
keep  my  patience.  Beginning  to  love  her!  You  will 
have  to  answer  hereafter  for  all  these  long  months  of 
neglect  and  unkindness.  To  me  your  sin  appears  a 
terrible  one.  You  had  one  of  the  noblest  women  in 
the  world  for  your  wife,  and  to  gratify  your  foolish 
whims  you  have  neglected  her.  Shame  on  you,  Car- 
aven— you  are  no  man  to  treat  such  a  wife  in  such  a 
fashion!" 

"What  can  I  do?"  asked  the  earl,  humbly. 

"Whither  have  you  sent  her?"  was  the  stern  inquiry. 

"To  her  father's  house,"  replied  the  earl. 

"Then  I  will  tell  you  what  to  do.  Go  as  fast  as 
steam  can  take  you  and  ask  her  pardon.  She  is  a  no- 
ble woman,  she  may  forgive-  but-"  added  the  soldier, 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


frankly,  with  a  flush  on  his  honest  face,  MI  declare 
that  if  I  were  in  her  place  I  never  would." 

The  earl  took  the  advice  offered  him,  and  went 
straight  off  to  town. 


CHAPTER  XLIU 


*  YOU  HAVE  MADE  MY  LIFE  HATEFUL  TO  MS* 

Lady  Caraven  had  refused  to  see  anyone;  she  had 
refused  to  quit  her  apartment.  The  horror  of  the 
charge  made  against  her  overpowered  her.  Her  hus- 
band believed  her  guilty  of  intent  to  murder.  At  first 
that  was  the  only  idea  her  mind  could  grasp — a  hor- 
rible, distorted  idea.  She  could  not  think  clearly. 
Her  husband, whom  she  had  saved  from  ruin,  whom  she 
had  roused  from  indolence  and  self-indulgence,  whose 
better  nature  she  had  called  into  life,  whom  she  loved 
with  a  passionate  love,  had  judged  her  guilty  of  murder. 
She  could  not  realize  it;  she  could  not  put  her 
thoughts  into  words;  they  assumed  no  tangible  form. 
Then  slowly  enough  she  returned  to  a  clear  memory 
of  what  had  happened. 

Someone  had  shot  Lady  Hamilton;  who  it  was,  or 
how  it  had  happened,  she  could  not  tell.  Then  she 
remembered  having  heard  the  shot  fired,  of  which  at 
the  time  she  had  thought  so  little.  She  remembered 
how  something  had  whizzed  through  the  trees.  By 
degrees  all  the  events  of  that  dreadful  night  returned 
to  her  clearly  and  forcibly — the  startled  cry,  the  sound 
that  came  from  the  borders  of  the  lake,  the  tramp  of 
many  feet — and  she  wondered  that  all  these  things 
had  had  no  significance  for  her  when  her  husband  had 

405 


406  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

cried,  "You  guilty,  cruel  woman!"  and  she  had  owned 
herself  guilty.  Then  she  saw  how  the  mistake  had 
arisen.  They  had  been  playing  at  cross-purposes.  He 
meant  that  she  was  guilt}''  of  murder;  she  meant  that 
she  was  guilty  of  jealousy  and  of  following  him.  She 
was  in  despair.  Of  what  avail  would  it  be  now  to  de- 
fend herself,  to  tell  him  that  she  was  not  guilty,  to  try 
to  clear  herself?  Her  husband  would  never  believe 
her;  he  would  always  suspect  her  because  of  her  own 
words. 

"Was  there  ever  a  fate  like  mine?"  cried  the  un- 
happy girl.  "What  have  I  done  that  such  a  lot  in 
life  should  be  mine?" 

Her  courage,  her  bravery,  her  hope  and  faith  seemed 
all  to  give  way.  She  was  in  despair.  Her  husband  be- 
lieved her  guilty  of  a  great  crime,  and  she  had  no 
means  of  proving  her  innocence.  The  only  hope  that 
remained  to  her  was  that  the  real  criminal  would  con- 
fess, and  so  free  her  from  the  accusation;  but  that  was 
most  unlikely.  In  her  own  mind  she  believed  that 
some  lover  of  Lady  Hamilton's,  wild  with  jealousy, 
had  fired  at  her;  if  so,  it  was  most  unlikely  that  he 
would  accuse  himself. 

No,  there  was  no  hope.  She  had  striven  so  bravely 
to  bear  cruel  fate;  she  had  done  her  best;  she  had 
made  a  brave  fight  where  many  people  would  have 
run  away — and  now  it  was  all  ended.  So  far  was  her 
husband  from  loving  her  that  he  believed  her  guilty  of 
a  crime.  The  girl's  heart  failed  her  utterly;  she  would 
fain  have  turned  her  face  to  the  wall  and  died. 

"Sir  Raoul  would  not  have  believed  it,"  she  said  ta 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


407 


herself;  "he  would  have  defended  me. "  All  hope  was  at 
an  end.  She  felt  that  she  could  never  interest  herself 
in  life  again.  Then  a  vague  but  none  the  less  terrible 
fear  came  over  her.  She  could  not  tell  what  might 
happen.  Suppose  that  Lady  Hamilton  should  die! 
Someone  must  be  punished.  Her  husband  had  said 
that  he  would  keep  her  secret,  but  suppose  that  he 
found  it  impossible  to  do  so — that,  from  circumstan- 
tial evidence,  others  suspected  and  accused  her — what 
would  she  do?  There  could  be  no  defense.  She  had 
been  found  behind  the  trees,  and  she  had  said  she  was 
guilty.  Could  it  be  within  the  bounds  of  possibility 
that  she,  Hildred,  Countess  of  Caraven,  would  ever 
be  brought  before  a  public  tribunal  and  tried  for  a 
crime  of  which  she  was  perfectly  innocent?  Her  vivid 
imagination  ran  riot  about  it.  She  pictured  herself  in 
a  dark  cell.  She  wept  until  from  sheer  exhaustion 
she  slept. 

A  knocking  at  the  door  aroused  her. 

"Hildred,"  called  Arley  Ransome,  "I  wish  to  see 
you. " 

"Papa,"  said  the  girl,  "I  am  tired  of  the  world — 
tired  of  my  life.    Let  me  die  in  peace." 

Fearful  of  drawing  the  attention  of  his  servants,  he 
went  away,  returning  again  and  again  with  the  same 
entreat}',  but  she  would  not  see  him.  She  refused  all 
food,  she  never  attempted  to  go  to  rest,  and  at  last 
Arley  Ransome  grew  alarmed  about  her.  He  would 
not  force  open  the  door — that  would  create  a  scandal, 
and  the  notion  of  scandal  was  as  bitter  as  death  to 
him.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  intense  relief  that  he 
saw  Lord  Caraven  arrive. 


408 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"This  is  a  terrible  business,"  he  said.  "My  daughter 
must  have  been  driven  to  great  extremes  before  she 
did  this." 

"It  is  all  a  foolish  mistake,"  cried  the  earl.  "Where 
is  she?  I  want  to  see  her," 

"A  mistake!"  said  the  lawyer,  with  dignity.  "Most 
men  would  give  your  conduct  another  name,  Lord 
Caraven.  People  should  be  careful  before  they  make 
such  mistakes." 

"Where  is  Hildred?'*  cried  the  earl.  "I  want  to  see 
her  at  once." 

"I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  my  daughter  will  see  you," 
said  Arley  Ransom e.  "I  must  say  that  she  has  been 
cruelly  treated.  You  are  a  peer  of  the  realm,  Lord 
Caraven,  but  have  you  behaved  as  a  gentleman  to  my 
child?  Have  you  treated  her  with  courtesy  or.  affec- 
tion?" 

"No,  I  have  not,  but  this  is  not  the  time  to  discuss 
such  subjects.  I  want  to  see  my  wife — to  apologize  to 
her." 

That  utterance  cost  the  proud  earl  a  great  effort.  It 
did  not  conciliate  Arley  Ransome. 

'  Something  more  than  an  apology  is  due,  my  lord," 
he  said,  gravely.  "You  write  to  me,  telling  me  that 
my  daughter  has  been  guilty  of  an  attempt  to  murder. 
In  the  silence  and  darkness  of  night  you  send  her  from 
her  home  as  though  she  were  one  of  the  guiltiest  crim- 
inals in  the  world.  You  denounce  her  to  me,  and  then 
you  hurry  after  her,  saying  that  it  is  all  a  mistake. 
Such  mistakes  are  not  to  be  pardoned,  my  lord." 

The  earl  kept  his  patience  with  great  difficulty. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


'Will  you  let  me  see  my  wife?"  he  cried. 

Arley  Ransome  saw  that  he  had  gone  as  far  as  pru 
dence  would  permit  him  to  go. 

"I  can  tell  you  nothing  of  your  wife,  Lord  Caraven," 
he  said;  "I  hardly  know  whether  she  is  living  or 
dead." 

The  earPs  face  changed. 

"Is  she  ill?"  he  cried.  , 

"Even  that  I  cannot  tell  you,"  answered  the  lawyer. 
"My  daughter  has  shut  herself  up  in  her  room,  and 
has  refused  to  see  anyone.  I  can  only  say  that  since 
she  heard  you  had  believed  her  guilty  of  that  crime 
she  has  neither  eaten,  drank,  nor  slept." 

"Let  me  go  to  her  at  once,"  said  Lord  Caraven. 
"Do  not  be  hard  on  me,  Mr.  Ransome — I  have  had  a 
great  deal  to  suffer."  And  these  few  words  disarmed 
the  lawyer. 

They  went  together  to  Hildred's  room.  Arley  Ran- 
some spoke  first. 

"Hildred,  I  have  something  very  particular  to  say  to 
you — open  the  door." 

There  was  not  a  sound  and  Lord  Caraven  began  to 
feel  slightly  alarmed. 

'Hildred,"  said  her  father,  "I  have  a  message  from 
your  husband.*' 

Still  there  was  no  sound,  and  unable  to  control 
himself,  the  earl  cried  out: 

"Hildred,  for  heaven's  sake  speak  to  mel  Let  me 
in — I  want  to  see  you!" 

The  sound  of  his  voice  seemed  to  have  an  electric 
effect  upon  her.  The  next  moment  she  turned  the  key 
\n  the  lock  and  opened  wide  the  door* 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


With  a  cry  of  fear  and  surprise,  he  started  back 
when  he  saw  her.  He  had  seen  her  lately  so  beauti- 
ful, so  radiant — now  her  long  black  hair  hung  in  dis- 
order over  her  shoulders;  her  face  was  pale  and  stained 
with  tears,  her  eyes  were  dim,  her  lips  white.  He 
hardly  knew  her. 

"Hildred!"  he  cried. 

She  looked  at  him  with  dim,  sad  eyes.  "You!"  she 
said.  "Is  it  you,  who  thought   me  guilty  of  murder?" 

Lord  Caraven  turned  to  Arley  Ranpome. 

"Leave  me  alone  with  her,"  he  said,  "I  have  much 
to  say." 

Mr.  Ransome  went  away.  The  earl  entered  the 
room  and  closed  the  door.  He  went  to  his  wife,  hold- 
ing out  both  his  hands. 

"Will  you  forgive  me?"  he  said;  "I  can  never  pardon 
myself. " 

But  she  shrank  from  him. 

"You  believed  that  I  committed  murder,"  she  an- 
swered.   "No,  I  cannot  touch  your  hands." 

"Hildred,  listen.  It  was  almost  all  your  own  fault — 
you  said  you  were  guilty. " 

"Not  of  murder,"  she  rejoined.  "I  could  not  have 
supposed  that  you  would  think  me  capable  of  that, 
much  as  you  dislike  me." 

"I  do  not  dislike  you,  Hildred,"  said  the  earl,  in  a 
voice  full  of  emotion:  "and  I  am,  indeed,  grieved  at 
having  offended  you.    Do  not  refuse  to  pardon  me." 

"There  can  be  no  pardon,  my  lord,  for  the  wrong 
you  have  done  me,"  she  replied. 

And  then  the  earl  knew  that,   if  ever  he  won  his 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


411 


wife's  pardon,  it  would  be  a  work  of  patience  and  of 
\ime. 

"I  cannot  believe,"  he  said,  "that  you  will  be  un- 
kind or  unjust  to  me,  Hildred — I  have  suffered  more 
than  you  have." 

"That  is  not  possible,"  she  rejoined;  "no  one  has 
accused  you  of  a  terrible  crime." 

"But  I  have  suspected  an  innocent  person,"  he  said, 
"and  it  is  harder  to  inflict  than  to  bear  pain." 

"My  pain  would  not  displease  or  discompose  you," 
she  said. 

There  was  something  in  her  manner  which  half- 
frightened  him  —she  seemed  as  though  her  brain  were 
dazed.  She  did  not  appear  like  herself.  He  began  to 
wonder  if  suffering  and  suspense  had  really  driven  her 
mad. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  very  gently,  "do  you  know  that 
you  frighten  me?" 

"Do  I?"  she  asked,  drearily.  "I  am  glad.  You  ought 
to  be  frightened  about  me.  I  have  never  done  you  any 
harm,  and  you  have  been  most  unkind  to  me — you  have 
been  cruel  to  me,  you  have  made  my  life  hateful  to 
me. " 

"Nay,  it  is  surely  not  so  bad  as  that?" 

"It  could  not  well  be  worse,"  she  said. 

He  gazed  anxiously  at  her.  She  looked  pale  and 
wan,  with  the  stains  of  bitter  weeping  on  her  face. 
He  saw,  too,  that  she  shivered  like  one  seized  with 
mortal  cold. 

"Hildred,"  he  cried,  "do  forgive  me — you  do  not 
know  how  grieved  I  am  to  see  you  like  this.    I  want 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


to  tell  you  how  the  misunderstanding  happened.  Will 
you  listen?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  mechanically,  and  she  sat  silent 
and  motionless  while  he  told  her  the  story.  She 
looked  at  him  when  it  was  ended  with  dull,  dim  eyes. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said,  "that  Blantyre  made 
the  mistake.  I  almost  wish  that  he  had  shot  me 
through  the  heart.    What  have  I  to  live  for?" 

"I  could  not  spare  you,  Hildred — you  have  been  the 
good  angel  of  my  life!"  he  cried. 

"You  would  be  better  without  me.  Your  estates  are 
free  and  unencumbered  now — you  have  roused  yourself 
to  a  sense  of  your  duties — you  know  how  to  perform 
them.  I  am  of  no  more  use.  I  am  sorry  that  John 
Blantyre  missed  his  aim." 

"That  is  not  like  you,  Hildred.  Where  is  your 
bright  energy,  your  hope,  your  cheerful  animation?" 

She  clasped  her  hands  with  a  shudder. 

"I  am  sick,"  she  said — "sick  with  a  terrible  de- 
spair. " 

He  was  at  a  loss  what  to  say  to  her — she  seemed 
immovable.  Suddenly  her  face  flushed,  and  a  bright 
light  came  in  the  eyes  that  had  been  so  dim. 

"You  sent  me  from  your  house,  Lord  Caraven,  and 
pronounced  me  guilty  on  what  seems  to  me  very  light 
evidence.  I  may  claim  to  be  at  least  as  credulous  as 
yourself,  yet  I  declare  that  had  anyone  accused  you  of 
murder  I  should  not  have  believed  it.  You  judged 
me  guilty  at  once — guilty  of  trying  to  murder — I,  who 
never  in  my  life  trampled  even  upon  a  worm.  Why 
should  you  have  thought  that  I  wished*  Lady  Hamil- 
ton dead?" 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


413 


He  looked  slightly  confused. 

"You  remember  that  you  told  me  you  were  jealous  of 
her,"  he  replied. 

"Jealous,"  she  repeated,  drearily.  "Did  I  ever  love 
you  then?  I  have  forgotten — my  brain  is  dazed,  dull. 
1  seem  to  remember  nothing  clearly,  except  that  you 
judged  me  guilty  of  murder.    Did  I  love  you?" 

The  wan  face  and  dim  eyes  touched  him  inexpress- 
ibly. 

"You  have  said  so,  Hildred.  I  hope  you  will  say 
the  same  again,"  he  answered. 

"Never,  if  you  thought  me  guilty  of  murder,"  she 
said,  decisively.  "My  life  has  been  a  sore  disappoint- 
ment to  me;  it  has  been  hard  to  bear;  it  has  not  had 
one  gleam  of  light.  But  it  is  all  over  now.  Now  that 
you  have  accused  me  of  murder,  I  have  no  further  in- 
terest in  it." 

She  looked  so  hopeless  and  so  dreary  that  he  was 
deeply  pained.  It  struck  him,  too,  that  she  looked 
terribly  ill. 

"Hildred,"  he  said,  gently,  "be  merciful.  I  am 
much  to  blame;  but  you  will  surely  pardon  me." 

He  tried  to  touch  her  hands,  but  she  drew  them 
proudly  away.  She  stood  before  him  erect  and  de- 
fiant. 

"I  had  my  life  given  me  to  enjoy,  as  others  had," 
she  said.  "I  had  the  power  of  loving,  the  longing  for 
happiness,  as  others  had.  What  right  had  you  to  crush 
them?  What  right  had  you,  because  you  wanted  my 
money,  to  take  my  girlish  heart  and  break  it?  What 
right  had  you  to  inflict  all  these  years  of  shame  and 


414 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


sorrow  upon  me?  What  have  I  ever  done  to  you  that 
you  should  repay  me  after  this  fashion?" 

'Nothing,"  he  replied.    "I  am  guilty/' 

"When  you  thought  I  had  tried  to  commit  murder, 
you  turned  me  from  your  doors;  in  the  darkness  of 
night,  alone  and  unfriended,  you  bade  me  be  gone. 
Which  kind  of  murder  is  worse — that  which  destroys 
a  body,  or  that  which  slays  heart,  mind,  brain,  and 
hope?    I  say  that  in  this  sense  you  have  slain  me." 

"Hildred,  be  merciful  to  me!"  he  cried. 

"I  will  show  you  the  same  mercy  that  you  have 
shown  me.  Go  from  my  presence  and  do  not  let  me 
see  you  again." 

"Do  you  mean  that,  Hildred?"  he  asked,  sadly. 

"I  do.  You  have  disliked,  despised,  scorned  me,  ever 
since  we  first  met.  Now  that  you  have  suspected  me 
of  a  crime  you  have  reached  the  climax.  We  shall 
meet  no  more." 

"You  said  that  you  loved  me,  Hildred,"  he  pleaded. 

"Did  I?"  she  replied,  with  a  harsh  laugh.  "Then 
I  take  back  my  words.  I  love  you  no  more;  you  have 
been  cruel  to  me —  as  cruel  as  the  men  who  put  out 
the  bright  eyes  of  a  little  bird  that  it  may  sing  more 
sweetly.    Let  me  pass;  I  have  no  more  to  say." 

With  shining  eyes,  and  pale,  passionate  face,  she 
swept  from  the  room,  leaving  the  earl  overcome  with 
astonishment. 

"She  is  the  most  high-minded  woman  I  have  ever 
met  in  my  life,"  he  thought.  "I  have  been  blind,  in- 
deed. How  superb  she  looked  in  her  indignation!  I 
will  win  her  yet.    I  have  never    cared   about  winning 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


415 


her  before,  but  I  swear  to  give  my  life  to  the  task  now.' 

It  seemed  probable  that  it  would  be  a  very  long  one, 
for  Lady  Caraven  positively  refused  to  see  her  hus> 
band  again.  In  vain  Arley  Ransome  pleaded  for  him; 
she  was  inexorable. 

"Even  a  worm  will  turn  when  it  is  trodden  upon," 
she  said.  "I  have  suffered  my  last  indignity  at  his 
hands." 

The  earl  was  compelled  to  return  to  Ravensmere,and 
he  did  so  almost  despairingly.  Lady  Hamilton  was  fast 
improving;  she  would  be  able  to  go  to  her  own  home 
soon,  the  doctor  said,  and  all  anxiety  about  her  was 
quite  at  an  end.  The  truth  of  the  story  had  come  to 
light;  all  the  papers  had  it;  everyone  knew  that  Lady 
Hamilton  had  been  shot  by  mistake,  and  that  it  was 
the  young  Countess  of  Caraven  whom  John  Blantyre 
had  intended  to  kill. 

The  earl  confided  the  result  of  his  mission  to  Sir 
Raoul,  who  was  not  much  surprised. 

"You  have  tried  her  beyond  her  strength,"  he  said; 
"I  should  advise  you,  without  loss  of  time,  to  return 
to  London  again." 

Lord  Caraven  did  so,  but  his  journey  was  fruitless. 
Hildred  refused  to  see  him;  to  all  entreaties  from  her 
father  she  answered  simply: 

"I  have  not  one  word  to  add  to  what  I  have  said;" 
and  with  that  answer  the  earl  was  obliged  to  be  content. 
In  sheer  despair  he  sent  for  Sir  Raoul,  who,  though 
almost  unfit  to  travel,  hastened  to  him;  he  besought 
him  to  use  his  influence  with  the  beautiful  young  wife 
who  had  no  pity  for  him.    Then  he  grew  wildly  jealous 


4*6 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


at  the  idea  that  she  woufd  listen  to  Sir  Raoul  when  sta 

refused  absolutely  to  listen  to  him. 

"Why  should  you  have  more  influence  over  her  than 
I  have?"  he  asked,  half  angrily. 

"Because,"  said  Sir  Raoul,  "I  understand  the  higher, 
better,  nobler  part  of  her  nature,  as  you,  I  fear,  will 
never  understand  it.    I  will  try  what  I  can  do." 

"Tell  her  then,  Raoul,"  went  on  the  earl,  his  tone 
and  manner  changing  suddenly,  "that  I  was  blind  to 
her  beauty,  her  goodness,  her  truth,  but  that  I  see  all 
now.  Tell  her  that  I  did  not  love  her  when  I  first  knew 
her,  but  that  I  love  her  now;  tell  her,  if  she  will  buit 
forgive  me,  I  will  make  the  devotion  of  my  whole  life 
atone  for  my  past  neglect  " 

Sir  Raoul  promised.    Lady  Caraven  did  not  refuse 
to  see  him.    He  was  shocked  and  startled  at  the  ter 
rible  change  a    few  days  had  wrought  in  her.  Ho 
looked  at  the  pale  face. 

"How  you  have  suffered,  Hildred,"  he  said. 

"Yes ;  I  came  to  the  end  of  my  patience  at  last.  1 
can  bear  it  no  longer,  Raoul;  it  was  a  life  of  torture 
after  all,  and  I  will  never  return  to  it.  I  could  not 
be  brave  any  longer." 

"Poor  child!"  said  the  grave,  pitying  voice.  "Some 
words  are  running  in  my  mind/  Hildred,  about  those 
who,  having  put  their  hand  to  the  plow,  turn  back 
again.  May  I  ask,  are  you  one  of  those,  Hildred?  Are 
you  tired  of  heroism?" 

"There  was  no  heroism  in  my  life,"  she  said. 

"Nay,  pardon  me;  there -was  the  grandest  heroism 
possible.  Do  you  know  what  my  idea  of  heroism  really 
is?w 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


417 


She  looked  up  at  him  with  greater  interest  than  she 

had  yet  displayed. 
"Tell  me,  Raoul." 

"This  is  the  grandest  heroism, *  he  said — "the  hero- 
ism that  makes  saints  and  martyrs — bearing  the  burden 
of  our  lives  patiently  and  cheerfully,  never  failing  in 
strength  and  endurance.  I  thought  that  you  would 
heroically  and  cheerfully  bear  the  crosses  and  trials  of 
your  life.  So  you  did  for  a  time;  now  you  have  laid 
down  your  cross,  saying  that  it  is  too  heavy  for  you 
to  bear.  Ah!  Hildred!  believe  me,  good  was  never 
yet  won  by  cowardice.  Take  it  up  again,  this  burden 
you  have  laid  down.  In  the  day  of  adversity  fail  not 
— be  a  heroine  until  the  end." 

His  words  cheered  and  encouraged  her,  as  they  al- 
ways did. 

"What  would  you  have  me  do?"  she  asked. 

"I  would  have  you  lay  aside  your  coldness,  your 
pride,  your  reserve,"  he  told  her.  "Do  not  become 
a  revengeful  woman.  Your  husband  has,  it  is  true, 
outraged  and  insulted  you,  but  it  was  a  mistake,  and 
he  deplores  it  bitterly.  Be  generous;  leave  revenge 
to  small  souls  and  narrow  minds;  rise  above  it,  and 
forgive  him." 

"You  do  not  know,  Raoul,"  she  said,  "that  my  heart 
is  sore  with  trouble." 

"I  know,"  he  replied,  "it  is  hard  to  bear,  but  you 
must  forgive  him.  You  must  again  take  up  the  duties 
of  your  life,  resume  your  occupations,  devote  yourself 
to  the  welfare  of  your  husband,  forgive  generously  and 
entirely  all  that  has  happened,  live  for  the  good  work 


4t8 


PkOM  OUT  THE  GLObM 


you  have  fcegun.  Once  before  I  asked  you  il  ycz  *zcre 
strong  enough  to  take  up  the  burden  of  your  life  and 
carry  it  bravely.    I  ask  you  the  same  question  now." 

She  was  quite  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then,  as 
the  mist  rolls  from  the  hill-tops  before  the  light  of  tha 
sun,  all  shadow  passed  from  her  face,  and  she  an' 
swered  him. 

"i  will.  I  will  do  all  you  advise,  Raoul.  I  will 
forgive  my  husband.  You  say  that  he  loves  me  now. 
I  shall  put  his  love  to  the  test.  If  it  fails,  well  and 
good — I  will  do  my  duty  without  the  sunshine  of  love 
to  cheer  me;  if  it  stands  the  test,  I  will  try  to  crown 
his  life  with  my  love." 

He  looked  long  and  lovingly  at  her. 

"You  are  a  brave  girl,  Hildred — you  are  a  good  wo 
man/'  he  said  admiringly.  4 1  wish  there  were  mo< 
like  you.  I  will  tell  Ulric  that  you  are  willing  to  s4 
him  now." 

"If  you  please,"  she  ref  ponded;  "but,  Raoul,  do  no* 
repeat  what  I  have  said.  I  want  to  test  his  love  mj 
self." 


CHAPTER  XLIV 


"WHEN  I  BEGAN  tO  LOVE  YOU  WITH  A  LOVER'S  LOVE  I  CAM- 
NOT  TELL" 

Lady  Caraven  decided  to  follow  the  advice  of  her 
friend  Sir  Raoul  and  forgive  her  husband.  She  re- 
ceived him  in  the  pretty  little  boudoir  in  which  the 
few  months  of  her  girlish  life  at  home  had  been  spent 
It  was  a  pretty  room,  octagon-shaped,  with  a  large 
bay-window  that  looked  across  the  lawn  to  the  river 
—a  room  that  seemed  fitted  for  a  young  girl's  habita- 
tion, with  hangings  of  pink  silk  and  white  lace,  a 
profusion  of  flowers,  and  a  few  pretty  water-color 
drawings. 

She  was  standing  by  the  window  when  he  entered. 

His  step  was  so  light  and  quiet  that  she  did  not 
hear  him  at  first;  and  he  looked  at  her  for  half  a  min- 
ute in  silent  admiration.  The  tall  slender  figure  was 
draped  in  a  plain  black  silk  dress;  the  dark  hair  was 
carelessly  arranged  after  a  picturesque  fashion;  the 
lovely  face  had  a  faint  hue  of  returning  health  and  hope. 
Her  hands  were  tightly  clasped,  and  the  expression 
on  her  face  was  one  of  deep  thought. 

"Hildred!"  he  called,  and  at  the  sound  of  his  voice 
a  crimson  flush  seemed  to  burn  her  neck  and  face.  She 
was  quite  silent  for  a  minu>e,  and  then  she  twrned  to 
turn  and  held  out  her  hand. 

410 


420  FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 

"Can  you — do  you  really  forgive  me?"  he  asked.  "I 
hardly  dare  to  hope  that  it  is  true. M 

"It  is  quite  true,"  she  replied;  and  he  detected  a 
slight  tremor  in  her  voice.  "Let  me  ask  a  question 
in  my  turn!    Is  it  true  that  you  love  me?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "It  is  as  true  as  that  heaven  is 
above  me." 

"Will  you  tell  me  how  long  you  have  loved  me?" 
she  asked,  quietly. 

"I  will  answer  you  quite  truthfully,  Hildred,"  re- 
plied the  earl;  "I  cannot  tell  you.  When  I  first  mar- 
ried you — I  speak  freely — I  did  not  like  you;  to  me 
you  were  simply  an  incumbrance  that  I  was  compelled 
to  put  up  with.  I  saw  nothing  in  you — neither  beauty 
nor  mind;  yet  we  had  to  live  together,  and  in  some 
kind  of  way  I  was  grateful  to  you.  For  many  long 
months  after  our  marriage  I  looked  upon  you  simply 
as  an  unformed  school-girl.  The  first  thing  that  I 
awoke  to  was  a  knowledge  of  your  beauty.  I  heard 
everyone  praising  it  and  I  began  to  perceive  that  in 
place  of  an  unformed  school-girl  I  had  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  in  England  for  my  wife.  The  next 
thing  that  struck  me  was  the  way  in  which  you  spoke 
to  me;  I  began  to  admire  your  pride  and  spirit,  your 
noble  ideas,  your  grand  notions  of  duty.  The  day  I 
saw  you  dismiss  John  Blantyre  was  the  day,  I  believe, 
on  which  I  first  began  to  love  you.  Then  I  admired  the 
way  in  which  you  roused  me,  the  way  in  which  you 
broke  up  without  mercy  all  my  dreamy,  luxurious  life. 
I  loved  you  for  the  brave  manner  in  which  you  took 
your  stand  by  duty.    But  when  I  began    to  love  you 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


421 


with  a  lover's  love  I  cannot  tell.  On  the  night  of  the 
ball,  when  I  saw  what  you  had  inscribed  on  your  tablets 
— 'My  husband' — my  heart  beat  faster  than  it  had 
ever  done  before,  and  I  felt  the  greatest  inclination 
to  take  you  in  my  arms  and  kiss  your  face  a  thousand 
times;  but  I  could  not.  After  that  my  love  grew.  I 
watched  you — you  were  beautiful  and  graceful,  my 
love;  I  listened  to  you — your  words  were  replete  with 
wit  and  wisdom;  I  saw  how  your  whole  time  was 
given  to  useful  and  noble  occupations.  But  when  I 
began  to  love  you  with  a  lover's  love  I  cannot  tell, 
Hildred.  I  should  like  to  say  one  thing  to  you,,J  he 
continued,  hurriedly — "they  are  humiliating  words  for 
me,  but  true  ones.  Whatever  there  is  of  good  in  me, 
I  owe  it,  my  wife,  to  you.  I  was  sunk  in  pleasure, 
in  self-indulgence.  I  had  but  one  idea  of  life,  and 
that  was  to  get  as  much  from  it  as  possible.  I  own  to 
you  that  I  never  even  thought  of  duty;  I  hated  the 
word.  My  thoughts  and  interests  were  centered  in 
myself. 

"Men  died;  I  cared  not, so  that  I  lived.  Men  starved; 
I  had  plenty.  Those  who  depended  on  me  were 
ground  down,  oppressed,  and  burdened.  I  cared  not. 
so  that  the  means  were  forthcoming  to  gratify  my  de- 
sires. My  wife,  it  was  you  who  aroused  the  nobler  soul 
within  me,  who  taught  me  to  live  for  others  and  not 
for  myself,  who  taught  me  that  there  is  a  pleasure  in 
virtue.  After  heaven,  I  owe  all  that  is  good  in  my  life 
to  you,  and  I  thank  you  for  it." 

She  bowed  her  head  in  sweetest  courtesy.  She  could 
not  speak  to  him.  His  words  had  filled  her  heart  with 
the  very  fullness  of  joy. 


422 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  am  sure,"  he  continued,  "that,  when  a  strong 
chain  of  circumstances  led  me  to  believe  that  you  were 
guilty  of  a  great  crime,  the  strongest  feeling  in  my 
heart  was  disappointment  that  you  were  not  the 
angel  that  I  had  taken  you  to  be.  Then  when  you  had 
gone,  and  I  was  left  alone,  left  without  you,  I  knew  that 
I  loved  you.  I  found  my  life  a  blank;  my  thoughts 
were  always  with  you;  my  heart  had  gone  with  you. 
Then  I  knew  that  I  loved  you  with  a  lover's  love,  and 
that  I  should  never  be  happy  until  I  had  won  you." 

A  glad  light  came  into  her  dark  eyes,  but  she  made 
no  reply.    He  continued: 

"Hildred,  as  earnestly  as  a  man  can  speak,  I  ask 
you  to  forgive  me.  Forgive  the  base  selfishness  that 
married  you  for  money  without  love  and  without  any 
knowledge  of  your  real  worth.  Forgive  the  insolent 
neglect,  the  cruelty,  the  coldness,  the  pain  I  have 
caused  you.  Forgive  the  last  and  greatest  blunder  of 
all — my  unjust  suspicion.  I  do  not  deserve  your  par- 
don, but  I  ask  it." 

"I  forgive  you,"  she  replied.  "We  will  bury  the 
past;  we  will  talk  of  it  no  more.  But,  Lord  Caraven, 
I  am  going  to  put  your  love  to  the  test." 

He  interrupted  her. 

" Hildred,"  he  said,  "do  not  call  me,  Lord  Caraven; 
try  to  say,  Ulric."  She  looked  at  him  with  sweet,  shy 
eyes. 

"Ulric,"  she  said,  "I  am  going  to  put  your  love  to 
the  test." 

"I  may  say  with  safety  that  it  will  bear  it,"  he  re- 
plied. 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


423 


"Our  marriage  was  a  mistake,"  she  said,  softly — 
"perhaps  we  were  not  altogether  to  blame  for  that. 
We  have  made  great  mistakes  since,  in  which  we  have 
both  been  to  blame.  What  I  propose  is  a  year's  ab- 
sence. A  cousin  of  mine,  Mrs.  Glenvil,  is  very  ill 
and  is  ordered  to  Nice.  I  ask  you  to  let  me  go  with 
her.  She  will  be  away  a  year — see  what  that  year  will 
effect.  If  love  of  me  has  sufficient  influence  over  you 
to  keep  you  good,  industrious,  active  for  the  benefit 
of  others  as  you  are  now,  I  shall  believe  that  you  love 
me.  If  in  a  year's  time  you  come  to  me  and  tell  me 
that  you  love  me  better  than  ever,  that  time  and  ab- 
sence have  not  changed  you,  I  will  return  with  you, 
and  will  make  you  a  most  loving,  devoted  wife.  Do 
you  accept,  my  love?" 

He  stood  for  a  few  minutes  in  thoughtful  silence, 
and  then  he  said: 

"Yes;  I  accept  it — I  shall  be  pleased  to  prove  my 
sincerity  to  you." 

"There  need  be  nothing  in  it  for  people  to  gossip 
about,"  she  said,  shyly.  "You  have  but  to  tell  any- 
one who  inquires  that  I  have  gone  to  Nice  with  my 
cousin,  and  when  the  twelvemonth  has  elapsed,  that 
you  are  going  to  fetch  me  home." 

"I  am  willing,  Hildred,"  he  said,  "and  shall  count 
the  days  and  the  hours,  my  wife,  until  we  meet.  I 
never  knew  how  sweet  the  word  'wife'  was,  nor  how 
much  it  meant  until  now." 

As  it  was  agreed,  the  only  persons  to  whom  they 
told  the  result  of  that  interview  were  Sir  Raoul  and 
Arley  Ransome,  who  both  cordially  approved  of  the 


424 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


plan,  foreseeing  that  it  would  end  well.  Everyone  be- 
lieved that  Lady  Caraven  had  been  so  suddenly  sum- 
moned because  of  the  illness  of  Mrs.  Glenvil,  and 
when  a  short  paragraph  in  the  fashionable  papers 
told  that  the  young  countess  was  going  to  Nice  for  a 
short  time  with  her  cousin,  no  one  had  a  word  to  say 
about  the  arrangement. 

The  earl  returned  to  Ravensmere  to  show  all  needful 
politeness  and  respect  for  Lady  Hamilton.  It  was  a 
great  relief  to  him  when  the  doctor  pronounced  her 
well  enough  to  return  home,  and  he  was  a  little  sur- 
prised when  he  found  that  she  regretted  leaving  Sir 
Raoul  more  than  anyone  else.  The  noble,  honest 
soldier  had  made  a  great  impression  on  the  beautiful, 
fashionable  coquette. 

"He  is  a  man  worth  loving,"  she  said  to  herself. 

Then  the  earl  returned  to  London  to  see  his  wife 
and  Mrs.  Glenvil  off.  He  went  with  them  to  Dover. 
They  had  decided  upon  going  to  Paris  first.  He  stood 
for  a  few  minutes  on  the  deck  oi  the  steamer  before  ii 
sailed;  he  looked  with  longing, wistful  eyes  at  the  face 
of  his  young  wife. 

"Hildred,  how  I  wish  that  I  were  going  with  you!" 
he  said. 

"So  do  L"  she  replied,  with  a  frank,  charming 
smile.  "But  that  would  not  do.  You  must  stand  the 
test.    You  will  come  to  fetch  me,  and  the  year  will  not 

seem  so  long." 

He  sighed  as  he  looked  at  her. 

"I  have  a  kind  of  fear  that  I  shall  be  like  the  naughty 
boy  in  the  story-book/'  he  said— Ml  shall  meet  with 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


425 


my  just  punishment,  Hildred,  if  anything  should  hap- 
pen to  me  before  the  year  is  out." 

"I  promise  to  return  to  )rou  at  once  if  you  are  ill  or  in 
trouble,"  she  replied  earnestly. 

"My  darling,  give  me  one  kiss!"  he  cried,  suddenly. 

But  the  countess  drew  down  her  veil,  "No,"  she 
said,  "that  would  make  the  parting  even  harder. 
Good-bye.    Heaven  bless  you,  Ulric!" 

"Good-bye,  my  wife!"  he  said;  and  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears  as  he  watched  the  steamer  cutting  her  way 
through  the  blue  waves. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

"THIS  IS  OUR  REAL  WEDDING-DAY,  HILDRED* 

No  man  ever  set  to  work  with  greater  zeal  tha*n  did 
the  handsome  earl.  He  did  not  delay  one  hour  in 
London;  he  went  back  at  once  to  Ravensmere.  only 
eager  to  begin  work.  There  was  to  be  no  more  idle- 
ness, no  mbre  dissipation,  no  more  self-indulgence.  He 
had  made  up  his  mind  that  all  the  plans  his  wife  had 
contemplated  and  begun  for  the  benefit  of  the  estate 
should  be  carried  out  before  she  returned  home.  The 
model  cottages  should  be  built,  and  men  with  their 
families  residing  in  them;  the  schools  should  not  only 
be  erected,  but  open;  the  almshouses  should  be  fin- 
ished, and  the  old  women  occupying  them.  She 
should  find  her  protege  Ellen  Woodruff  installed  as  por- 
tress in  one  of  the  lodges;  every  wish  his  wife  had  ever 
expressed  should  be  carried  out,  every  desire  fulfilled; 
houses  should  be  repaired,  farms  put  in  good  order — 
he  would  neglect  not  a  single  thing  that  she  had  ever 
proposed  or  thought  of.  No  matter  what  it  cost,  all 
should  be  done.  He  took  Sir  Raoul  into  his  confi- 
dence, and  they  found  that  by  employing  extra  hands 
the  work  could  be  done  in  the  time. 

Lord  Caraven  did  not  lose  an  hour.    No  one  look 
ing  at  him  now  could  have  believed  that  he  had  ever 
been  indolent.    There  were  days  when  he  rose  with 

420 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM  427 

the  dawn  of  the  sun  and  worked  without  ceasing  until 
it  set — days  when  he  found  no  time  for  anything  but 
riding  round  and  encouraging  the  different  sets  of  men 
to  work.  Everyone  knew  at  last  what  his  object  was 
— that  he  wanted  all  finished  before  his  wife  came 
home. 

When  that  was  known,  the  workers  grew  even  more 
anxious  to  please  him,  for  there  was  not  one  on  the 
estate,  man  or  woman  or  child,  who  was  not  anxious 
to  please  the  young  countess  and  who  did  not  love  her. 

"She  will  be  happy  at  last,"  said  Sir  Raoul  to  him- 
self as  he  saw  that  love  for  her  was  gradually  but  surely 
influencing  the  whole  of  the  young  earl's  life. 

Lord  Caraven,  in  the  midst  of  his  labors  and  toils, 
did  not  forget  to  correspond  continually  with  his  wife. 
He  wrote  to  her  every  week,  never  telling  her  what 
he  was  doing,  but  dwelling  continually  on  his  pas- 
sionate love  for  her,  on  his  intense  desire  to  see  her 
again. 

"These  are  our  love  letters,  Hildred,"  he  wrote  once. 
"This  is  our  courtship.  The  day  on  which  we  meet 
will  be  our  real  wedding-day,"  and  she  smiled  to  her- 
self as  she  read.  He  was  won  at  last,  and  no  one  but 
herself  knew  how  happy  she  was  to  win  him. 

So  the  year  passed  away.  It  was  thought  advisable 
for  Mrs.  Glenvil  to  return  before  the  English  winter 
began,  and  the  beginning  of  September  was  fixed  up- 
on as  the  time  for  her  and  the  countess'  return.  The 
earl  prayed  his  wife  to  allow  him  to  go  to  Nice  to  es- 
cort them  home,  as  was  at  first  arranged  She  answered 
"No,"  that  her  father  would  do  that     She  did  not 


4*8 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


wish  to  meet  him  again  until  she  met  him  at  home* 
Her  father  would  bring  her  to  Court  Raven  Station; 
he  could  meet  her  there  and  take  her  home. 

"She  is  right,"  said  Sir  Raoul;  "that  seems  to  mi 
more  fitting.    She  is  right,  as  she  always  is." 

So  the  day  came — a  bright  September  day — when 
all  the  world  seemed  changed  to  the  Earl  of  Caraven. 
The  train  was  due  at  the  Court  Raven  Station  at  three 
in  the  afternoon,  and  the  earl  was  to  meet  it. 
.  Lord  Caraven  kept  his  word.  The  day  was  cele- 
brated as  a  wedding-day.  Great  tents  were  erected  in 
the  park,  and  all  the  children  and  the  tenantry  were 
feasted  therein  to  their  hearts'  content.  There  was 
nothing  but  rejoicing  and  merriment  and  happiness. 

The  earl  stood  by  the  carriage  when  the  train 
stopped.  There  was  not  much  time  for  greeting  then. 
He  clasped  his  wife's  hands  between  his  own,  hesitat- 
ed for  a  moment,  and  then  kissed  her. 

"My  wife — my  darling— welcome  home!"  he  said. 

Then  he  helped  her  into  the  carriage  and  took  his 
seat  by  her  side.  He  saw  her  face  grow  pale  with 
emotion  as  the  ringing  cheers  of  men,  women,  and 
children  fell  upon  her  ear;  and  as  the  carriage  drove 
slowly  along,  more  than  one  rough  voice  cried: 

"Heaven  bless  your  ladyship!    Welcome  home!" 

They  drove  slowly,  for  the  crowd  was  great.  She 
had  seemed  especially  to  belong  to  the  people,  this 
dark-eyed,  beautiful  woman,  who  had  worked  so  hard, 
^nd  they  were  delighted  to  "have  her  in  their  midst 
again.  The  earl  had  not  failed  to  tell  them  all,  both 
rich  and  poor,  what  they  owed  to  her,  and  rich  and) 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


poov  were  there  to  welcome  her.  The  crowd  increased 
as  th^y  drove  through  the  park  and  when  the  carriage 
stopped  at  the  great  entrance  it  was  wonderful  to  see 
the  throngs  of  people.  The  earl  stood  up  to  thank 
them  for  their  kind  and  spontaneous  greeting.  Then 
he  took  his  wife's  hand  in  his,  and  a  beautiful  smile 
brightened  her  face  as  she  looked  round  upon  them — 
there  was  hardly  one  in  the  vast  gathering  who  had  not 
received  some  kindness,  some  favor  or  benefit  from  her 
hands, 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "every  man  who  loves  his 
wife  has  a  pet  name  for  her.  My  wife  is  the  good  an- 
gel of  my  house." 

They  then  passed  indoors,  followed  by  the  good 
wishes  of  all  who  knew  them. 

There  was  a  small  and  early  dinner-party  at  the 
castle;  the  members  of  it  were  the  earl,  the  countess, 
Sir  Raoul,  Arley  Ransome,  and  Mrs.  Glenvil.  After 
dinner.  Lord  Caraven  drew  his  wife's  arm  within  his 
own. 

"This  is  our  real  wedding-day,  Hildred,"  he  said,  4  so 
I  am  not  going  to  apologize  for  taking  you  away  horn 
our  guests." 

They  walked  across  the  long  drawing-room  to  the 
balcony  where  the  last  roses  of  summer  were  hanging, 
and  where  the  creepers  formed  a  bower. 

"It  is  not  cold,"  he  said.  "Will  you  come  out  here? " 

They  went  out  together,  and  stood  watching  the 
sunset  over  the  trees  in  the  park. 

"First  of  all,  Hildred,"  said  the  earl,  "guess  what 
news  I  have  for  you." 


FROM  OUT  THE  GLOOM 


"I  cannot  guess, H  she  replied. 

"You  would  never  imagine,"  he  said.  MJ  told  you  in 
one  of  my  letters  how  sorry  Lady  Hamilton  was  to 
leave  Sir  Raoul." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  her  face  full  of  interest. 

"Yes,  you  did,"  she  assented. 

"It  has  ended  in  this  way.  He  met  her  again  in 
London,  and  again  at  Brighton,  and  they  are  to  be 
married  at  Christmas.  She  has  given  up  flirting,  and 
cares  for  nothing  under  the  sun  but  her  soldier  lover." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  Lady  Caraven.  "She  is  a 
beautiful  woman,  sweet,  gentle,  and  gracious.  Her 
only  fault  was  coquetry.  I  think  she  is  safe  with  Sir 
Raoul.    He  will  not  allow  much  of  that." 

"Still  you  will  own  that  you  are  surprised,  Hildred?" 

But  she  did  not  answer  him.  She  had  placed  her 
hand  in  his  and  was  looking  far  away  at  the  light  of 
the  setting  sun,  as  one  in  a  happy  dream. 

"I  wanted  to  say  something  else  to  you,  my  darling," 
he  continued,  putting  his  arm  around  her  and  kissing 
her  fondly,  while  she  nestled  to  his  side.  MI  want  to 
thank  you  for  all  you  have  done  for  me,  and  to  tell 
you  that  I  think  the  greatest  blessing  heaven  can  con- 
fer upon  a  man  is  the  gift  of  a  patient,  unselfish,  de- 
moted wife — such  as  has  been  given  to  me." 


in  ud 


